Banished Demons
by Lykosdracos
Summary: COMPLETE- Written before Pirates 2 and 3 this story details Jack's life from childhood to the day he pulls into Port Royale at the beginning of Pirates 1. Ties in to Midnight Rescue, though both can be read as seperate stories.
1. Default Chapter

BANISHED DEMONS

_(These characters, except for the ones I made up myself, don't belong to me. They belong to the wonderful people at Disney, geniuses the lot of them. Lol. And to answer questions, Kayrna is pronounced Care-nah. Just wanted to clear that up. This is a PREQUEL to Midnight Rescue. Hope you enjoy!!)_

**Chapter 1**

"Three shillings a night, boy, or you'll face the same thing tomorrow." A skinny lad of about fifteen looked up at his father as he heard the familiar words. Three shillings a night. This was nothing new to the boy, he'd been made to steal and beg for money for as long as he could remember.

"I try, sir." The boy gulped and struggled not to flinch at what would come next. He knew what he had to do. The boy took a deep breath waiting for retribution. This, too, was a nightly ritual. If he couldn't anger his father enough to leave the house his temper would run rampant over his mother and sister. He didn't want to see father hit either of them anymore, so he did what he could to enrage his father in order to get him out of the house.

"Try?! That's not good enough!" his father bellowed, "If you want a roof over your head and a meal then you'll pitch in too, or, by god, I'll send you out to the streets! I wont tolerate weakness in this house!" he was gasping for breath by the time he stopped. With one last parting glare he stormed off down the street no doubt to spend the money on a woman's company.

The lad had medium length dark brown almost black hair that fell to his shoulders in neat waves. He was tall for his age, but not an ounce of extra flesh lay on his bones. His expressive brown eyes showed traces of hunger and a sadness that seemed too old for his age.

"Jack?" a pretty little girl peeped out from under a cabinet. They both kept their faces and appearances clean not wanting to be like their father. She resembled their mother more, light reddish-brown hair and soft gray eyes that had the same trace of hunger as her brothers.

"Aye, he's gone for now." At only age ten he'd lost his mother and was left with the responsibility of taking care of his sister, Kayrna. She was the only person who thought to worry about him. In return, Jack would walk through hell for her had she asked. They worked together sometimes to get money, as a result both had a mind sharp as a newly crafted blade.

"I thought he'd never leave." She sighed, "Why did he take you outside?"

Jack moved his shoulders in reminder bringing back the slight stinging on his back. It was something he never wanted her to find out. For every missing shilling it was four lashes with a light bullwhip.

"He just wanted to count the money is all." Jack made up the instant excuse. She would be broken by the truth. Somewhere in her heart she wanted to believe their father was a good man, not the raving coward Jack saw him for.

"Its late. You should go to sleep." Kayrna announced suddenly making Jack smile. Only ten years old and still acting like mother. She was dead now, the cold had been too much for her to stand. Jack had given her his blankets against winter's frigidity, but it had been no use. She went to sleep one night and never woke up.

Their father hadn't cared, only enough to know extra income would stop. They buried her the next day and everything seemed to go back to normal. It was a bleak, dark winter in which the children marked her passing. Any mention of her in father's presence was forbidden, just her name could reap loads of trouble upon them.

"s' only around ten, Kyra." Jack ruffled her hair affectionately, "You go to sleep. I'll see if I can get a start on tomorrow."

"Not without me," Kayrna objected, "they're mean out there at night. If they catch you. . ."

"They wont. I'll be careful." He was interrupted when she yawned then blushed at the action.

"You can't conentrate if you're tired. I'll be back at half- past, aye?"

"You swear?" she looked up at him with glinting eyes.

"I do." Kissing her on the cheek he watched as she went off to their room. By the time he got the first shilling she would be asleep. He braced himself before stepping outside, the bitter wind howled angrily, icy breath made its way around and through his clothes freezing him to the bone.

Today both had worked separately, but Kayrna couldn't get all three. It was much to cold out for people to be out and around, but still their father insisted.

He should have thought ahead, taken more than just three, but even that was hard to come by. They would have to travel further tomorrow or risk being caught. The people would start to recognize them and label them thieves. Penalty was imprisonment or a heavy fine, none of which they could afford.

Jack knew Brahm, their father, had no qualms about hitting a woman, child, or animal. Jack never would allow Kayrna to be hurt. At the end of the day it was Jack who combined the money to give Brahm. Some days they weren't able to get enough for food for themselves.

He stumbled and skillfully reached into the pocket of a heavy-set dark haired man. Four coins, Jack kept his eyes downcast and apologized. Once the man was out of view he put them up to the light. Good fortune, a penny and three shillings. Kayrna was taken care of already.

His hands nearly frozen, he again pocketed the money and headed home. Brahm wouldn't get home until early morning. He had at least four good hours of sleep left.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Kyra?" Jack shook her shoulder as gently as possible.

"Hmm. . ." she snuggled even lower into the covers to escape the bitter early morning chill. Jack was loathe to wake her, she was just a child. She didn't need to hunt for money today. He had three shillings for her already, it was better that she stay in protective world of dreams. Jack didn't want her to become like him, cold, cynical, she deserved better than that.

It would take naught but a few hours to get another three. If he was lucky he could get another couple of pennies for a loaf of bread and maybe a jug of milk. He hated that he could never scrounge enough money together to feed them. She was far too thin and oft at night he could hear her stomach growling.

He ignored his own hunger giving her his share when he could. It took everything he had, sometimes, to pretend he'd eaten already so she'd feel the pleasure of a full stomach. He couldn't give her anything else. Their good-for- naught father wasn't worth his salt and did nothing but wenches in the tavern.

His threadbare shawl was lying on the ground still wet, it would be no use at all. He sighed as he hung it up on a peg hoping it would dry quickly. He savored the slight warmth of the house before stepping outside and quickly closing the door behind him.

Shivers and trembling started in his muscles. He grit his teeth at the sensation and forced himself to keep walking. It was always this way, so bad to the point he couldn't walk without shivering violentl,y but soon he would be too numb to care.

The wind soothed the small healing scratches on his back. It was lucky Brahm had only a light bull whip, if it had been a real one. . . Jack had seen the damage they could do.

A middle aged man walked up the street. Jack walked past, but before he could reach for coins the man delivered a crushing blow to his cheek.

"None of your antics, boy. I've seen you whelps stealing money, if I see it again I'll send the authorities for you.

Jack struggled against his rage, after his fathers abuse he'd take no abuse from anyone. The man walked on and Jack focused on the cold rather than his burning anger. He pressed his hand to his cheek and felt the skin swelling. Bloody hell, another bruise to add to the many he had already.

The next town was three miles over, could he walk that far? Six miles altogether, but he needed another three shillings before he could even think of going back home.

He pulled his shirt closer to his body to try and retain body heat. Walking down the dismal cobble-stone street he opened the door to his imagination. He liked to think up stories and new ways of concealing what he was. He did that a lot, took on different personalities for amusement.

It was a rare talent to have, he could change his voice and accent at will. Jack leaned by simply observing people and their mannerisms. As for the stories, they served as a way to escape this godforsaken city, the cold, and the heartbreak of desperation.

Often when he had enough money for the day, a trip to the docks was taken. Kayrna went with him often, but he knew that the ocean didn't hold the same appeal for her as it did him. The water stretched for miles and miles only broken by the horizon.

He would watch ships pull into port, the men come off board balancing jugs and barrels on their shoulders, in fascination. Others led animals or tugged crates of foreign objects the like of which he'd never seen before.

Jack vowed to have a ship of his own one day. It would be a grand vessel, one of the best in the world. He understood ships on a deeper level than most. They 'spoke' to him telling him of their voyages, he could tell by the way wood was inlaid and how the sails hung. Some of them sang to him, called to him, each song was different and caused the ache in his soul to grow.

Yes, one day he would have his very own to command, its song would be the brightest and most melodic heard on the ocean.

The miles passed quickly as the thoughts in his mind took shape. The ship would have, not white, but black sails so that anyone who saw them would know whom she belonged to. He didn't know of a name yet, that would come when he found the ship. Names represented the soul of them and she would have to tell him.

He would be her captain and no one would ever tell him where to go or what to do. The ship would be his pride and freedom, none would take it from him and none would dare cross him for it. Captain Jack Elstran, no, he didn't ever want his fathers name.

What had been his mothers maiden name? A bird of some kind, he could remember Brahm taunting her because of it. A bird with its wings clipped or some nonsense like that. What was the birds name? A. . . Sparrow! Captain Jack Sparrow, it sounded right and his mother would be immortalized in his name. A sense of justice was served. He would commandeer his ship true and free as a Sparrow in flight.

The cold wind changed to a pleasant rustle of breeze, the white puffs of air crystallized from his breath was fog rolling in from the west. The people walking about were potential crew. He would ignore the superstition of women onboard meaning bad luck. His sister and mother had more courage and fortitude to face danger than most men he knew. There would be at least one aboard his ship.

He wouldn't need luck, he was Captain Jack Sparrow and he made his own luck.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Authors Note: So far I think the characters are progressing nicely, this one seems like it'll be pretty quickly written. I'm just nervous this time because while I was writing Midnight Rescue I had this idea to write Banished Demons, I don't have any more ideas yet. Don't you all think that Midnight Rescue is pretty much done? There's not much else I can do for them. . . hints? Tips? I dunno, I'll have to think and, for right now, just worry about this one._

"Jack! Where have you been? You must be frozen!" Kayrna rushed to get a blanket from the other room. His face was chapped from the wind, but there was a dreamy look in his eyes. She knew that look well. He could fabricate stories that kept her riveted to the end. He must be dreaming up one now, she wanted him to write them down, but he always refused.

A good story once written loses some of it's magic. To keep it going there must never be an end. She remembered him saying that once when she got pen and ink for him.

"Jack, sit down, please. You'll be warm soon." She draped the blanket around his shoulders.

"That's Captain Jack, if you please, love." He said grinning. It sounded as good out loud as it did in his mind.

"What did you say?" Kayrna poked the coals of the fire to bring some more warmth into the room.

"Nothing, just an idea. I got eight shillings and some bread for later." He gave the bread to her to conceal until later. Their father would come home, collect their money and leave again. The meals he promised them were few and far between. What they ate they usually found themselves.

"Oohh. . . bread! Looks heavenly. I'll put it under the floorboards this time." She went to their secret stash. One of the floorboards, they'd found, was hollow underneath. They kept it meticulously clean and preserved food within for consumption when their father wasn't around. If they left food out Brahm would devour it without a second thought.

Jack looked around their house despondently and sighed in his mind. He actually preferred to stay out of doors than come home again. The walls, floors, and furniture were all made of wood. Due to the changing temperature of the seasons some of the wood was close to cracking. The fireplace was made of brick though it wasn't red brick.

He liked to go past houses with full panes of glass and peer inside to see their finery and cloth tablecloths, painted wooden furniture for the children, sometimes there were even flowers and food out on counters. He didn't linger to stare inside because the owners would come out and shoo him away, but he liked to see it anyway.

Their bedroom was kept warm with heated bricks underneath their ragged blankets and badly patched old clothes. Jack gathered wood and other things that would burn in the summer and spring, he knew there was nothing to be found in the winter. It was the only thing that prevented the children from freezing to death.

There was a sprig of dried flowers on their wall that their mother had made for them. In the other room there were a few old trunks and a mostly-empty jewelry box that used to be hers. No one went in there anymore, Brahm forbid it.

Unfortunately, that's who was traipsing through the snow with a well- dressed man beside him. Kayrna hid the bread and made sure her appearance was nice enough so as not to warrant any scolding.

"Jack," she called loudly to alert him, "Jack!!"

"What? What's wrong?" Jack threw off the blanket and bounded into the room. He looked around frantically to see if she were hurt.

"Father! He's coming home and there's someone with him." She pointed out the window.

"What's he doing home so early for?" there was no time to think about it, the door was already opening.

"Kayrna? Where are you?" he called raspily. Kayrna looked towards Jack with wide eyes, she was terrified of Brahm and when he came home for short times she would hide under a large cabinet until he was gone.

Jack put his finger to his lips and made a sign for her to be quiet. He pretended to sneeze to draw his father's attention as he scrutinized the stranger. The man was dressed in fine clothes, a seemingly kind look resided in his eyes, but Jack wasn't inclined to lower his guard at all. He looked like he was a wealthy Englishman, which was strange as no one like that ventured into these parts.

"I'm right here, father," she looked up innocently and nervously curtsied.

"See. 'xactly as I tol' ye." There was no doubt in Jacks mind that he was drunk. It was barely past mid-day. "Mild mann'red and willin' t'learn."

"Learn what?" every muscle in Jack's body was tense, "What do you want her for?"

"Stay outta this boy." Brahm snarled, "leave well 'nough 'lone."

"What Is He Here For?" Jack spaced the words evenly and contemplated tackling his father and beating him if what he was thinking was right. Luckily the stranger intervened,

"She'll be a maid in my household. It's for the best, surely you understand that?"

"A maid? Not a-" Jack couldn't get the word out, just thinking about his sister walking the streets, abused, used, rage burned in his stomach.

"Of course not! How old is she?" the man looked appalled at the thought.

"One and ten. Her names day is the sixth of June." Jack supplied the information dully. He knew it was for the best, but it didn't stop the pulling at his heart.

"A bit young to be a maid. . . maybe in another few years?"

"No, no not necessary." Brahm interrupted, "She's stronger than she looks."

"But, papa-" Jack subtly put his hand over her mouth. From the warning glare sent their way it wasn't a moment to soon.

"Come here, sweetheart, let me have a look at you?" the stranger knelt down and Kayrna walked toward him afraid of Brahm's wrath and the violent look Jack was sending both men.

Jack watched the stranger touch Ka's hair, smile at her. He noticed the disproving look of the man as he saw her threadbase clothing, the english gentleman, Jack thought bitterly. He was going to take her away.

As if hearing Jack's thoughts the man met his eyes, there was a sadness there, tenderness for the girl he was comforting, a scornful look directed at Brahm. Jack felt his throat close, he had to let her go.

"Get your things t'gether, girl. Not a word outta both of ye." Brahm issued the command pleased with the thought of making a quick profit. Who knew that children could be so useful?

"There'll be an annual of one hundred twenty pounds. . ." it echoed throughout the room while Jack and Kyrna went to their room.

* * *

"Jack! I don't want to leave! I can't leave you!" a tear rolled down her face as she clung to his side, the tears made her eyes nearly silver.

"I don't want you to go either, Kyra." He knelt down so he could face her squarely. He couldn't let her cry, not over leaving this hellhole, how could he make this situation better?

"Think of all the wonderful things you'll see. All the people in their fine clothes, and you'll be one of them. You can leave here and I'll be free to leave then, too. I'll find you again and then you can tell me everything that's happened since the last time I've seen you." He finally said letting a little of the story-teller in him emerge. He made his voice go soft and wondrous although he couldn't stop the hoarsness that crept into his tone. It wasn't his fault, it felt like his throat was closing off and a lump was lodged deep inside so he couldn't breathe.

"I love you, Jack." She sobbed.

"I love you too, Kyra." He hugged her then pulled away before he could follow his inclination. He wanted to grab her up into his arms, to run from the house. "Come on, I'll help you pack." He got what few dresses she had and put them together in a basket. He cut some bread for her to eat and then a few trinkets he'd found so she wouldn't be scared wherever she was going.

"You're going to come get me," she confirmed the promise drying her eyes. Should Brahm find out he would be cross. She knew Jack was hurt for her when she cried, her brother protected her, she'd since learned not to cry in from of Brahm.

"Of course," Jack didn't yet know how, but he had to try to make her look forward to leaving, "Here, one last thing before you go." He pulled out a bound collection of paper. On further inspection it was the story he'd told her since child-good. Over one hundred pages long, it must have taken forever to write!

The paper it was written on was rain-splattered and would seem like rubbish to anyone else. Jack's penmenship wasn't fantastic, but it was legible to Kyra who had learned her letters, also. Their mother had known basic spelling and English, Brahm had beaten her severely when he'd found out. No woman was allowed to be more learned than he, but it hadnt stopped her from teaching her children.

"I'll treasure it forever. You've added an ending?" She looked at the last page before she tucked it underneath two dresses so it would be protected.

"Aye, an ending for a new beginning." He managed to grin though the pain was ripping his insides to shreds. Written a few moments ago it still fit in with the rest of the story. It somehow seemed fitting that the end finally come.

"Good-bye." She hugged him tightly and didn't want to let go.

"Never good-bye." Jack ruffled her hair feeling his stomach lurch at the thought of her leaving, "I'll see you again soon."

"Are you coming?!" Brahm demanded impatiently, "Dalver isn't going to wait forever."

Jack watched as Dalver led her down the street, he gave her his jacket when he realized that she was shivering. She managed to look back once before getting into the coach. He watched the contraption leave and wanted to scream.

"Why did you sell her away?" Jack demanded angrily.

"It is not your place to ask." Brahm thundered.

"How could you sell your own daughter to be a maid?!" Jack didn't care about consequences, he had to get rid of the sorrow he felt somehow and lashing out at his father seemed the best choice.

"That's it." Brahm muttered, he dragged Jack outside and uncoiled the short whip. Jack still didn't care, he could endure anything because today he was leaving. He couldn't stay here any longer, it was time he set out on his own he wouldn't play the lackey to his father anymore.

If Brahm could sell Karyna as a maid there's no telling what life had in store for him. He would rather lose his arm then be sold into servitude.

"Do. . ." the whip came down laying a stinging flash of white before Jack's eyes, but he grit his teeth and didn't say a word.

"Not. . ." another strike fell this time on his lower back.

"Ever. . ." Jack tried to find a semblance of shelter in his mind from the pain, he could escape sometimes, but today, with all that had happened, the effort was futile.

"Talk. . ." Every lash brought a fresh flare of anger, of hate. Rage clouded his vision, he hadn't known he was capable of such an emotion.

"Back. . ." each word enforced new pain. His back was breaking out in welts, cuts, and bruises. He was all but shaking, but not from pain. It was born from the urge to reverse everything his father did back on him. He was seconds away from turning and cracking Brahm's neck. Only a semblance of sanity stayed his actions, but a feral wildness lurked in his eyes.

Three more and then Brahm coiled the rope and looked at Jack sneering at the punishment.

"Forget about her." He spat angrily, "she means nothing but a nice profit now. And it's still six shillings I'll want from ye."

Jack again fought the impulse to murder his father. He waited until Brahm went back to the tavern. Now was not the time to engage in combat, he had to wait for an opportune moment. It was then he would make his escape unnoticed and prepared.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Authors Note: Another chapter, and I don't know if I can update as regularly as I have before. Thanks to Yakorrat for the advice on the change from whip to switch/cane. I'll fix that soon too. The chapters are going to be longer, I think, so that means more time will be needed in order to finish said chapters. So here I am on my computer, snow day so I don't have to go to school, yay, listening to Nickelback and writing. . ._

It felt like a weight had been taken off his chest. He had stayed for Kyra's benefit, Brahm would have torn her apart had she been left to his care. She had needed the security of a house even though they had to work to stay. Memories of their mother lingered in the house, Kyra had tried to love their father. She wouldn't have survived on the street with Jack so far away from home.

It didn't amount to much, but he had tried to give her someone she could look up to and talk to when desperation got the better of them. Their father certainly wasn't going to be that person.

Brahm was back at the tavern content with the discipline and one hundred twenty pounds he would gamble away. He still expected six shillings Jack thought ruefully.

Jack entered the forbidden room determined to take what he wanted. He wouldn't be returning to this part of the world, not if he had anything to do with it. Jack scanned the room disdainfully. His mother, his sister, did they have to live in such a hellhole? At least they were both in a better place... he would be soon.

Nothing in this room had been touched over the years, he could smell the undertone of death in the air. Jack could also smell flowers, his mother had loved flowers. He reverently knelt down beside the knobbly, scarred wooden trunk and opened the lid.

Not much was left, he thought in disgust, whatever Brahm could have sold would be gone. Only a few things had been saved from his greed.

Jack braided a few of his mother's trinkets in his hair. A chain with a charm, a few colored beads, and both a brown and white feather.

He found a red bandanna and tied it over his hair, it wouldn't do to emerge as half a pirate now, would it. From what he'd seen on the docks, pirates wore bandannas and loose-fitting clothes.

Jack rummaged through his own clothes and found a shirt he had saved for special occasions. It was just a shirt after all. Tying the shawl around his waist he concluded that he'd left his old image behind.

As he stepped back onto the cold streets with eight shillings, half a loaf of bread, and a few things he wanted to take in his pockets, he didn't even notice the colder temperature.

Jack hoped he could get passage onboard a merchant vessel, but if not he could always risk it and try sneaking onboard.

* * *

Gibbs real name was Gabriel. An embarrassment and curse to him from child-hood. He had long ago left any who knew his Christian name. There was no one who would recognize him as weak, soft, Gabriel. A fact he made sure of. He worked on a nice-sized merchant ship, made decent money. As he walked towards the town he saw a boy weaving alongside the road.

From far away it looked as if the child were drunk, but as he got closer Gibbs could see he was hurt. His eyes were tired, they was a determined desperation glowing feverishly in the golden-brown depths. There was no doubt in Gibbs mind, the boy was running from something.

"Oy, lad, slow down a minute." Gibbs reached out and stopped Jack by holding his shoulder. Jack twisted agilely in instant reflex to the hold, but he stayed and didn't keep walking.

Gibbs knew why the boy didn't want to be touched when he saw the shirt stick to skin and turn crimson. He also saw the condition of his back, slight droplets of blood dotted the white shirt, a long line of red darkened on his upper back too. They looked like whiplashes, but Gibbs didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"What did you want?" Jack asked, but not impolitely. The man who stopped him was ten years older and had the look of a sailor. He wasn't wearing military clothes, and he walked as if he was used to the ocean.

"T'know ye're name." Gibbs replied.

"And what would you be using it for, I wonder." Jack asked suspiciously.

Gibbs nearly laughed aloud, the kid had brains, that was for sure. A keen instinct too, although only time would fully develop that.

"A free meal and some aid for ye're injury." Gibbs walked away hoping the boy would follow. Sure enough,

"Jack Sparrow." Jack quickened his pace to catch up. It wouldn't hurt to know someone in this town and if all else failed he could, at least, find the mans ship and gain free passage.

Gibbs made sure to walk slowly so Jack could keep up. He knew how much the boy must be hurting, but to give him his due, not by word nor action did Jack show it. He was strong and must have grown up too fast. It wasn't an easy world they lived in and children got used to it or passed into the afterlife.

A wooden sign swung violently on a rusted chain that attached itself into the wall. The sign's letters were almost all gone but a picture of a tankard could still be distinguished.

As they got closer Jack heard women laughter and drunken shouts. He inwardly flinched at the noise, but as Gibbs made no sign of stopping Jack took a deep breath and entered the tavern.

Rum, perfume, chatter, and rushing women bombarded him as soon as he got three steps in. Was this like the place Brahm went to all the time? It certainly didn't lack for interest. Men drank from cups overfull of liquor, some of it spilled down their fronts when they drank. Prettily dressed women batted their eyes and pursed their lips coyly trying to earn as much as they could for the night.

"This way," Gibbs cut quickly through the crowd and got two chairs settled in one of the corners. It was dark so while Jack and Gibbs could see the customers, others couldn't see them as well.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked when Gibbs got up to go somewhere.

"To get the drinks o'course. Didn't think we were goin' to sit 'ere and talk on empty bellies, did ye?"

"Wait," Jack dug into his pockets without hesitation and pulled out some coins.

"This rounds' on me." Gibbs grinned and before disappearing into the crowd. As he made his way toward the counter he couldn't help but shake his head at the boys manners.

The lad would never fail to surprise him and that was a fact. He'd bet that was all Jack had on him at the moment, a few coins and whatever other skill he had. To try and pay his own way. . . that was something Gibbs had nearly forgotten. He didn't need the money and Jack obviously did. It would be a cold day in hell before he took money from a kid.

Jack sat back in his chair carefully and closed his eyes, his head pounded with every heartbeat and he just needed to rest for one moment. Unfortunately there was no rest to be found here.

"'ello, chap." A girl about his age plunked herself down on his knee and trailed an arm across her throat and then down the open expanse of her chest, "fancy a tumble t'night?"

"No, not from me." He felt his stomach churn with revulsion, she was barely older than he and already working as a whore. She got up with a disappointed look and Jack tried not to wince as she forced him further back into the chair. When she leaned over to artfully fix her skirts his back pressed against the wood and pain lanced through him again.

"This'll dull all grief and soothe all hurts." Gibbs passed him a small tankard of rum. Jack took a drink and coughed soon after, his throat burned, but after a few seconds of trying to draw breath it went away and warmth spread through his body. "Best bloody rum they sell here."

"It's. . . different." Jack took another drink this time prepared for the after effects.

"Careful, don' drink it too fast else it'll all go to ye're 'ead." Gibbs warned shocked at the rate the rum was disappearing. It looked as if Jack had been drinking it all his life. "Ev'r had it b'fore?"

Jack shook his head no and slowed down considerably. This time he savored the crisp taste and relaxed his guard somewhat. He knew it was foolish to do so, but he was too tired to care anymore. He had walked nearly nine miles, the only thought in his head to get as far from Brahm as possible.

The walking was nothing new to him, he'd walked further than that in a day.

Jack looked at Gibbs and knew that the questioning would start soon, he had enough experience to know that adults always had endless rounds of questions. Who was he, what was he here for, did he have parents, what was the blood from... they would all start soon. Jack just hoped he could keep his thoughts together enough to answer them and not be trapped by the answers.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Authors Note: Gabriel is Gibbs first name, or so I make it out to be. It could happen, and watching POTC, and all the commentaries (for the ?th time, there's too many to count) I heard them say that Gibbs never had any real history. So I've decided to give him one, or at least from where Jack steps in.._

Gibbs noticed Jack became quieter and quieter and since the boy never really said anything to start with it made talking somewhat awkward. His rum was almost finished and Gibbs didn't want either of them to wake up the next morning afraid to step out into the sun for fear of their heads shattering. He'd had that happen a few times and each time he vowed never to drink so much again. It was a losing battle, rum was a fiery wench accustomed to getting her way.

"C'mon, lad, let's get ye set'led in for t'night." Gibbs wondered how best to rouse Jack from his nearly sleeping state. Just as he was about to take him by the shoulder Jack's eyes snapped open and darkened as he looked around.

Gibbs was only minutely surprised by the reaction, he should have realized that Jack wasn't unaware of what was going on. Like he'd thought before, the boy had finely tuned instincts and that would help him later on in life. But it also made him wonder where and why he would have had to learn them.

Jack's first thought was disorientation, where was he and what was he doing? He remembered when he saw the last dregs of rum in the tankard. Waste not. . . he drained the cup and waited a moment to gather his strength. Standing he stretched slightly to get the blood flowing in his veins and unused muscles used to movement.

The tavern was no longer a place of mystery and Jack almost enjoyed it now, so long as people left him alone. He wasn't averse to their company he just didn't like seeing girls so young in such a place. It made him worry for Kayrna and wondering if circumstances had been different if this was somewhere she would be. No, he pushed the though firmly out of his mind it was all because of the rum, made him think of things he didn't want to.

"Got t'get going." Jack mumbled tiredly. He still had the frame of thought to make it to the door without bumping into anyone. From the look of his back, most of the cuts were closed properly and on the road to healing.

It was mostly deserted outside and still as cold as ever. The road seemed to stretch on forever, but Jack didn't mind. So long as the road went he would have someplace to travel. If the road stopped he would have to as well and Jack didn't plan on settling down anywhere permanent, ever. It was an itch in his blood to travel and go places. He couldn't stand the thought of staying in one place for too long.

He might be able to get a room somewhere for the night and then tomorrow he could look around for passage. The docks weren't far at all from where he stood now. There would be no ceasing of ships that pulled into port. Surely one of them could use another crewman onboard.

Gibbs saw how Jack looked at the winding gray streets and grinned wryly in his mind. The fog was just rolling in and pretty soon they would be hard pressed to see their hand in front of their faces. It was the time of night people used to call the witching hour, where nothing and everything looked eerie.

"Comin' or d'ye plan t'stay on t'streets?" Gibbs asked.

"Where are you going?" Jack asked stifling a yawn. Why was he so tired?

"I know of a place we can get lodgin' for no' much coin." He walked with Jack a few blocks down and stopped in front of a more upper class brothel. It had faded blue shutters and white paint that was chipping slightly but to Jack it looked great. This was like one of the houses he'd seen sometimes in the afternoon. Candles were in the windows and blue curtains didn't let people see wondered if Gibbs lived here when he wasn't off sailing. Would he have a wife, kids?

"This is it?" Jack asked already anticipating what it would look like inside.

"Aye." Gibbs knocked twice, paused and knocked again.

A beautiful woman opened the door and smiled welcomingly. She had on bright red lipstick that matched her gown and her eyes were outlined in white and black. She moved aside to let them through and Jack inwardly sighed when he realized the house was heated. He could see through the doors, fireplaces were roaring with bright fires and there was a nice smell in the air, flowers and cinnamon.

Gibbs had done well for himself, Jack wrapped the home feel around him and felt peaceful. He wanted this one day, a place on land with a beautiful woman waiting for him when he set port. Or, hell, he'd take the woman with him.

She led them further into the house and to Jack's amazement there were women of every size, height, and age in the other rooms. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach when he put two and two together, Gibbs had taken him to a brothel.

"Take your pick, gentlemen." She waved her hand to show them their choices. Gibbs glanced over at Jack and knew that tonight, at least, the lad would want to sleep alone. Why, when there were so many beautiful women, he couldn't fathom but at least he would be warm while he slept.

"I need one room that's no' occupied for'im." Gibbs motioned to Jack who kept his eyes studiously on the floor and walls. He'd look at the women, but there was no hunger in his gaze, curiousity and exhaustion, but no lust. Gibbs had a moment to wonder if the boy were inclined to the opposite sex, but the Madam interrupted his reverie.

"Of course, he'll be undisturbed for tonight." She cleared her throat, "Annette, take our guest here and put him in the green room."

A girl about two years older than Jack looked him over appreciatively and took his hand to show him up the stairs. Jack hesitated only a moment before following and looked back only once.

"And for you,?" he heard the crimson woman ask Gibbs, but a stair creaked and Jack didn't hear any reply. The corridor was brightly lit and as warm as it had been downstairs. Wood gleamed from the glow of candles and the white walls were soft looking. Jack appreciated the effort it took to make a home look inviting and he knew hoped that the women were comfortable here.

"This is the green room," Annette announced opening a door. There was also a fireplace in this room as well as a bureau, full-length mirror, large bed, and pillows along the floor to the right.

"Thank you," Jack wouldn't forget his manners. It was something he could remember from his mother. No matter where you come from common courtesy isn't something to be forgotten, she used to say.

"Are you sure you don't want... company tonight?" Annette crinkled her nose cutely and tossed her golden hair. She was pretty, but there was still doubt in the back of his mind.

"Not tonight," Jack said gently. She shrugged her shoulders and closed the door behind her waving goodnight as she did. Somehow this place wasn't at all what he expected of a brothel. The people were nice, not coarse like some of the women he used to know. They were delicate and seemed innocent despite their profession. It changed his views dramatically and as he lay on the jade green coverlet he knew he'd never before felt such peace.

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the windows before Jack finally woke up. This time there was no disorientation about where he was.

"Oh! You're awake." The same woman from last night came in the room with a tray of food and a fresh basin of water.

"Yeah, although I rather wish I weren't." Jack ran his hands across his face. He was still content, but a slight headache throbbed in time with his pulse.

"Too much to drink?" she asked lowering her voice significantly. She handed him a mug of ginger tea, "these'll help put you right in no time."

"Thanks, love." Jack drank the ginger tea slowly and was amazed when the headache all but disappeared. "How did you know?"

"Tried and true method," she smiled. "Drink up, I'll be back in awhile to check on you. Gibbs told us you would be staying for a few hours more so there's still time yet."

"He'll be staying too, aye?" Jack asked, "And time for what?"

"Yes, he usually comes here... and there's time to fix up your back." She glanced at the marks on his back and felt compassion for the pretty lad with dark eyes. He'd slept on his stomach the whole night, Anette filed that information away for later. She got to know her customers, remembered things about them and found that they appreciated it all the more when they returned to her.

"No worries there, I'm fine." Jack shrugged and rolled his shoulders. "See, good as new."

Annette looked at him doubtfully, but she left to gave him privacy, anyway. Jack rinsed his face at the basin and winced as one of the gashes opened slightly again.

"Bloody hell," he muttered dryly. Fine, indeed.

Jack glanced at the bed, he hadn't left any blood on the sheets. If he hadn't been so addled the night before he'd have removed his travel-worn clothes to prevent from mussing the elegant bed. There was no way for him to know that the brothel had a good supply of bedcovers and sheets for the inevitable mess that followed a tryst.

He slipped the shirt off wincing as the fabric pulled tight against his back. It was time to survey the damage. Jack braced himself before looking into the three paned mirror running parallel to the bed. He wondered why there was such an expansive mirror and why it was in such an odd place. He'd ask later, maybe, if the time was right.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Authors Note: This isn't progressing along as quickly as I would like it too and I'm glad that I've decided to take my time on this one. Not that it would have done much good anyway. I'm watching The Italian Job, not really impressed with it though Jason Statham is nice to look at. Muhaha_

As Jack looked into the mirror Anette had returned with a clean linen shirt. At her stricken look Jack had turned his back to the bed. There was no detering the woman, she had insisted on cleaning and patching his wounds and Jack complied because he knew there was no arguing with a woman.

Anette had seen injuries before, but nothing rivaled the ones strewn along Jack's body. His back was a mass of bruises, cuts, and healed wounds. There were scars that looked like a whip had wrapped around his ribs to cut into his stomach. She couldnt imagine the pain he'd been through, who had done this to him?

Despite the brutality, Anette found herself responding to the man who lay before her. He was lithe and thin, he needed food to come into the broad shoulders and muscle that lay beneath the surface. His stomach was flat and his waist slim. And his hair, he had such long, thick hair. The eyes that stared at her in the mirror weren't as friendly as they had once been.

"What are you doing, girl!" Jack hissed as the cloth touched his bruised and smarting back.

"Hold still I'm almost done." She rinsed the bit of material out and inwardly winced when the red water turned crimson.

Every muscle in Jack's body was tense, he tried not to flinch as she brushed over his back, but there wasn't much more he could stand. He knew that she was only trying to help, but he couldnt refrain from feeling he'd have been better off were she to have left him alone.

Annette checked one last time to make sure that all of the skin was free of dirt and blood. It had to be otherwise infection could set in and then fever would take over. When Gibbs asked her to take care of Jack there was no way she could refuse. There was something about Jack that made her take second glance and wonder about the kind of man he would grow up to be.

"Tell me a little about yourself," Jack took a deep breath and focused all of his attention Annette.

"There's not much to tell," she said bringing the basin over to the bureau. Anette examined one of the vials within the cabinet certain it was the one she wanted.

"Sure there is, everyone has a story," Jack propped himself up on his elbows so he could watch her as she moved around the room.

"What kind of things do you want to know?" her sapphire blue eyes winked amusedly, never had any question like this been directed towards her.

"Anything you're wanting to tell me." He half-grinned and she was struck by how well structured his face was, when he was older there was no doubt in her mind that he would be very handsome.

"Well, you know my name. I grew up around these parts and later was taken in by Cherise, but we call her Ruby because that's her favorite color.

"I don't mean this to sound coarse but... why here?" it was a genuine question though, she could tell by his expression that he wasn't making fun of her.

"Why not here?" she sat on the corner of the bed and pushed hair back and looked him in the eyes not afraid to meet his gaze. "It's nice, the men who come in here only want a small dalliance to get away from normal reality. Cherise wouldn't let anyone in who went against her instincts, but business is good because we've a reputation here."

"You don't mind working here, then?" the way she put it didn't sound bad at all. In fact all of the women he had seen looked content to stay for the rest of their lives.

"Not at all. We get good meals, great pay, heat in winter and fans in summer. We have privacy when we want it and people to talk to when we need to talk to someone. It's easy to please people when I know what they want."

"How do you know Gibbs?"

"He's a regular, whenever he sets into port we know we'll be seeing him at least once. Mistook this place as an inn once and he thinks it's the best mistake he's ever made," she laughed softly, " are the two of you could be related?"

"Pardon?" Jack looked at her skeptically.

"You both have dark brown hair, about the same height, he treats you like a son and is about twenty years older than you so it could be... the only difference beteen you two are your eyes." She picked up one of the feathers in his hair, "What's this for?"

"Just a trinket." He didn't mind as she went through the parts of his hair that was untied. She ran her fingers through it and made it tangle-free enjoying the way it shone like black ebony.

"Will you let me put a little balm on the cuts?" she warmed the bottle in her hands, "It won't hurt, I promise."

"Do you now." Jack smiled and lay straight again. What difference did it make, his back would heal and then there would be no more memories that went with the pain. He was well used to it and would have gotten through it as he'd always done before.

He held his breath waiting for a sting as the salve touched the cuts, but there was none. Only a cool soothing feeling as she worked fast not lingering on them. Annette knew that if only the balm touched the injuries there would be no pain.

"See? What did I tell you." He could almost see her smile as she spread meticulously worked her way down his back numbing the flesh as she went.

"What's in that?" Jack asked, he'd never heard of anything like that before.

"I'm not sure, actually, Ruby makes it but I think there are a few mint leaves, some aloe. You'll have to ask her for the rest."

"Jack?" Gibbs knocked before entering the room.

"Aye?"

"Going down to t'docks for a few hours. I'll come back for ye by the end o' the day."

Jack's eyes narrowed a little in speculation but he nodded his head that he understood. He would have to trust Gibbs in this, trust had to start somewhere. The door closed behind him just as Annette finished with the salve.

"So what are you going to do for the rest of the day?" she asked folding her hands in her lap. She knew that he was getting over his reserve for brothels when she saw the attraction in his eyes. He was so different from other men that visited her it was her decision after all what she did on leave.

"Depends," Jack turned and rested his weight on his elbow, "What is there to do?"

"Well... goes against policy but..." her eyes lit with mischief. His eyes darkened a little but he still was grinning nonetheless. She kissed him on the cheek and touched one of the braids that hung down to the bed.

"Aye, there is that." He moved in to kiss her but she turned her head. Jack mentally shrugged, he'd heard that certain women didn't like being kissed on the mouth. That was fine, he could go along with that. He just hoped Gibbs had the sense now to take his time about what he was doing.

Jack followed her lead not wanting to hurt her. He'd seen people coupling in alleys, drunken fumbling that had seemed to him rather rough. The women screamed, the men grunted, he didn't want that for her.

Anette wondered if he'd ever been with a woman before. He was so gentle and hesitant, she slowed down and reveled in the way he touched her.

"Love," he asked quietly, "what are those mirrors for?"

She laughed, "let me show you."

As Jack watched she undid the fastenings of his pants. He soon forgot all about mirrors and pain and violence. He could defnintely grow accustomed to this, Jack leaned back on his elbows wary of his back and ceased to see the world.

_Authors Note: What Jack knows he isn't telling, maybe I'll end up cutting that scene but Annette clearly was attracted to Jack and he to her. Besides, he would have to get his start somewhere, aye? Why not in a nice, clean, safe brothel like this one? It certainly would explain him getting over his distancing himself from such places. He's definitely not like that in the movie and Annette isn't younger than him and she knows what she's about. . . _


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_Authors Note: The next chapter is finally here. I was worried about what would happen next, I'm not even sure how this is going to go. I just hope that Jack can guide me well enough so that I can make it match the rest of the chapters and not sound all childish. From here on to meeting Anamara after the mutiny. . . I can see the road stretching out before me with no end._

Jack lay on his stomach with a content smile on his face. Annette lay next to him, her beautiful hair spread over the black satin pillow like finely spun gold. Her complexion fair and figure shapely he'd never known a more beautiful woman.

Well, he twirled a lock of her hair idly between his fingers, Jeria could match her through and through. Just thinking about her made his heart lurch painfully. His beautiful Jeria, hair like molten lava and spirit to match. He could see her emerald green eyes sparkle with laughter and later shine with tears.

Jack unconsciously knotted his fist in the sheets memories rushing through his mind fast as the tide comes in. She was his first love, no matter that she was forced to sell herself to live, he saw underneath that to what she really was.

He had never touched her knowing that she spent much of her time in pain. Jack had done what he could to ease her discomfort. He held her as she fell asleep, whispered soft words to her, promised her things they both knew were lies.

He had always tried to protect her, staying out to all hours in the morning for more coins to try and save her. There was never enough, Kyra was his sister and his blood. It was a hard lesson learned, but life was fragile and there was only so much Jeria could bear before it started taking it's toll.

Brahm had never known or he might have tried to kill her himself. As it was, not even Jack's skill with a sword could have saved her life. He held her in his arms as she breathed her last, her bruised hand rested in his as a single diamond bright tear rolled down her face for their love.

At least there was the knowledge that he had shown her another world, one she wanted to explore with all her heart. He wove stories to mask the horrible truth, while she was strong and willed herself to live. . . inch by inch the fine thread was being unraveled. The scissors of life were taken out and at last the string was cut through. He lost her on a breezy summer day that seemed to mock him with it's beauty when that part of his heart lay dead.

He didn't even know the name of the man who had killed her. Jack went to the meadow to meet her one night not knowing that it would be their last. He would never forget the sick feeling of dread as he saw the drops of blood on the sweet-smelling grass, nor forget the scream of denial that echoed in his soul as he saw her lying on the ground.

Jeria, she had somehow managed to get from the bleak, unmerciful city to their place in the grass. Many times had he met her there and memories went through both their minds as their eyes met.

She whispered his name running her hand down his cheek, the look in her eyes was one of undying love. How sorry she was for all of it, but not a moment would she have changed. Jack was what she lived for, the time when all else fell away and she lost herself in the safety he offered, at least for a few hours. She was glad that she could bring him happiness when all else in his life went against him. The pain in her body was nigh unbearable, but tears rose in her eyes that she would not be able to stay with him.

It was better to have brought a ray of light to both of their lives than to never have met at all. She believed that now with all her heart, she raised her hand to his cheek so that she would remember the look in his tawny-brown eyes forever.

His name was the last word that passed through her lips as the darkness slowly closed in around her. Jack held her far into the night too numb to care if they were found. He smoothed her red hair back from her exquisite face and cursed the gods that she was lost to him.

He buried her the next morning in the place she had loved so much. Every morning the sun would rise, but it's first ray hit the meadow in a specific place making the ground seem to glow. He made sure to lay her in exactly that space so that she would have the sun shine on her every morning to chase away the darkness.

While times might change, the sun never would and she would be remembered by him until the day he died. He walked away and tucked her into the deepest regions of his heart. He needed to stay in control and not fall to his knees as he so wanted to do. There was Brahm to face and Kyra to take care of, he couldn't fail her now. She was all he cared about in the world now and he would never let anything happen to her.

Annette woke breathing in deeply as she felt Jack lying next to her. She sat up and blinked in surprise when she saw the sadness in his eyes.

"Jack?" she called his name hesitantly. He blinked and the sadness was only lingering as he turned to face her.

"Aye, love?" he asked forcing himself back to awareness.

"You looked... as if you weren't entirely here." She kept her gaze lowered on the sheets.

"And what would I do a thing like that for?" Jack grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, "Why when I have the most beautiful woman in London would I let my thoughts wander?"

Annette shrugged off her worry and relaxed into his arms. "I wouldn't know," she purred seductively. "you want to make amends for it, I warrant."

"You think so, do you?" he kissed her neck and grinned as she giggled at the ticklish sensation.

Gibbs stopped when he heard feminine laughter from Jack's room. He smiled to himself revising his earlier theory. It was about time the boy let himself enjoy life's finer joys.

"Gibbs, back again so soon," a cheery woman came up the stairs and rested her hip against the banister.

"Seems so, Marianne."

Marianne looked him over appreciatively, at only forty years old Gibbs was still handsome and strong. His hair was dark brown and he was of average height, but what attracted women to him was his quick wit and humor. Always ready with a compliment or joke he raised confidence and spirits wherever he went.

"Care for a drink then to take care of your thirst?"

"Rum?" Gibbs asked.

"Is there any other drink worth having," she walked into an unoccupied room and took out two glasses.

The ship wasn't leaving port until the next morning, the mast had to be repaired and that couldn't be taken care of until late evening. Not that the crew minded, it was one more night of freedom for them. He'd talked to the Captain of the ship and he'd agreed to let Jack aboard as a cabin boy.

Jack would gain experience that way and learn how to handle a ship well. Their captain was fair and a firm believer in rules. He would treat the lad right and teach him the way of the sea. Gibbs was convinced, there wasn't a better man to teach Jack then Vinehbalt.

_Authors Note: Way to go Jack! Now I explained his, er, learning of love and added just another part to his past. I'm glad of how this all turned out although I am a bit surprised myself. Jeria, wonderful character she and Jack needed a first love. . . _


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_Authors Note: Some pirates actually did this, when they pulled into port they changed their colors. I read about it, much more interesting then the Gilded Age, trust me. So I can actually put some of my research to use, here goes. . ._

"How old are you, boy," Vinehbalt asked looking at the half-starved lad speculatively.

"Ten and five, Captain." Jack replied. The captain was a tall man, brown-haired with brown eyes that shone with discipline and tolerance.

"Not to young to work aboard a ship, eh, Gibbs?"

Gibbs cleared his throat and shook his head. He wanted to give Vinehbalt time enough to make up his mind. A second opinion might sway his decision and he wanted Jack to pave his own way without help.

"What's that," Vinehbalt asked gesturing towards the small parcel in Jack's arms.

"Just a book," Jack shrugged and took it out of the case.

"Greek mythology?" the Captain smiled, "You can read?"

"And write," Jack added, "a little bit. Nothing wrong with that, aye?"

"Not a thing," Vinehbalt saw the slight start of anger flare in Jack's eyes, he didn't expect anything less. Gibbs had told him of the boy's pride and spirit, that was part of the reason he'd decided to take another onboard. "You have any weapons? Pistol, cutlass, or rapier?"

"No, Captain." Jack never would have saved up enough money for one, but then he hadn't the need for one anyway. "Only a small dagger."

That had been an honest find, it wasn't pick-pocketed, at least. He'd discovered it outside the tavern after a fight broke out. One of the men who'd died dropped it, Jack had hastily retrieved it, cleaned it up and sharpened it teaching himself to use it with deadly skill and precision.

He had marginal swordsmanship skills. Sword-fighting hadn't been as hard to practice as knife fighting. Both had been learned by trial and error. Those stupid enough to threaten him were challenged to a fight, winner take all. Jack hadn't ever killed anyone, but then neither had he lost more than twice either. Fighting with a sword was much easier, there wasn't the need to be in close proximity to the attacker nor was dodging vicious slashes and quick stab attempts tried.

Boys fought all the time in towns. It hadn't been hard to find someone to lend him their weapon in return for the spoils. He held the sword with his right hand using the other helped keep his balance, then it was all over when one was too injured to fight anymore for that day.

Jack had taught himself to fight left-handed, as well, though he wasn't nearly as proficient with his less-dominant hand. Those boys had been rich, some of them mean, they didn't have any qualms about fighting a rag-clad, smart-talking boy who offended them.

Jack, on the other hand, felt no guilt as he later pick-pocketed them for the money he'd honestly won. The times were few and far between, but as time passed, so did his skill.

Jack was never one to give up what was his easily and determination and will-power saved his life more than once. His reflexes were fine-tuned and so were his improvisational skills. Death tended to cause that reaction, Jack learned that humans' first instinct was to survive and during the heat of battle he learned more moves out of desperation and luck than anywhere else.

"Captain," an older man with a monkey on his shoulder came up the plank and looked Jack over, "we setting sail soon?"

"Aye. Barbossa, I'd like you to meet the newest member to our crew. His name be Jack Sparrow. Jack, this is my first-mate of many years."

"Sparrow, eh?" he chuckled giving Jack a dismissive look and took a bite of an apple, "Interesting name."

"So's Barbossa." Jack gave no quarter, but there was no animosity in his eyes.

"Welcome aboard," Barbossa dismissed the boy as being no threat.

"Rules for me crew are fairly simple so be sure to remember them. There is to be no fighting once we set sail, when we dock at port... duel then, not before. Swag is shared equally and sorted through together. There are no, and I mean no, women allowed on deck."

No women allowed, it was a little disappointing to be sure. Then again, he was only starting out and lucky to be there. He'd learn what he could and then later on he could do things his way.

"Have you ever sailed before?" Vinehbalt asked.

"Once or twice." It wasn't an outright lie, he'd once helped unload cargo when they'd seen him watching from the sidelines, then there was also the time when he'd been able to go to one of the other docks that weren't so far away. Brahm had only agreed because it meant three whole sovereigns for the day.

"Very well. Gibbs, show him the ropes. . . and take that in the literal sense." He turned on his heel and headed back to the ships' wheel.

"The Black Pearl. . ." Jack murmered, there seemed to be a far away look in his eyes. It looked as if he was having some deep internal conversation with himself, he moved with the motion of the ship and smiled every now and again.

"Jack," Gibbs looked around hoping that none of the other men had seen. It was a little startling to say the least to see the look that was in Jack's eyes now. A predatory glare, echoing back to wildness of the ocean and the untamable wind.

"Aye, here, pardon." He snapped back to the matter at hand, "So I'm put on the ropes?"

"Yeah, s'what the Captain ordered." He looked up at the rigging and then at Jack, "Ship's name is 'The Adventurer.' A common name, s'for sure but a finer one you'd be hard pressed t'find."

Jack stashed his things near one of the hammocks before going top deck again. He could definitely get used to this. Being so close to the ocean and on a ship calmed the restlessness that normally plagued him.

Every time he took a breath he could taste the salt on the air, feel the breeze cold on his face, see the dark waves foam with white. She must be angry tonight, otherwise she would lay calm and tranquil, not swirling with fury.

All of the crew had boarded, the Captain took his place, a man to the Crow's nest and more along the length of the ship. The sails billowed red and blue in the air, colors of the Queens Navy. Jack sighed, this couldn't be a Navy ship though seeing as no one was in uniform.

"Change t'sails for bloody sake." Yelled one of the men, "s'insultin' seein' them all the bloody time." Pulling out of dock four men climbed to the very top of the ropes and took the sails down carefully. With a loud cheer and swords drawn black sails were put in their place.

"We're pirates," Jack said incredulously, but there wasn't a trace of horror on his face.

"And what'd you think we'd be," Barbossa smirked, "law abiding, good, honorable men?"

"Leave the lad alone," a man with wavy chestnut colored hair tied in a ponytail laughed with the crew, "he's just getting used to the ship as is. Don't want to go scaring him off, do ya?"

Barbossa gave a half-hearted laugh and threw the apple core off the ship into the sea. A wave picked it up and dragged it under to the bottom of the ocean, Jack frowned after it and with only slight concern in his eyes waited until further instruction.

He quickly learned that there was no ordering about, the men did their jobs only stopping now and again to eat or sleep. Jack climbed nimbly on the ropes, he'd learned their motions right enough and knew when, how, and where to step so he wouldn't end up face up on deck.

His job was definitely not one of the easiest, the ropes tangled easily and he untied knots and untangled criss-crossed lines as fast as he could. It was an exhausting task but one Jack didn't at all mind doing.

From where he perched on the ropes he could see the horizon stretch out before him. The sun hit the water just right so that it seemed reflected twice, and every now and then he'd see a dorsal fin of some sea creature. He felt free, weightless, not dependent on anything. He didn't rely on the crew for anything other than his ration of bread and dried fish or meat.

This was what he always searched for, from his position it felt as though he could touch the sky. The crew thought him crazy, he was one of the few that dared climb so high when the ship was rocking in the current and tide.

He often spoke with the ship, telling her of all the sorrow and heartache he'd left behind. This was the one he'd claim as his when it was his time. He could wait forever for her if need be. The sea was his mistress and the ship his woman, she taught him better than any of the men could. Through her guidance and his mettle, Jack learned the way of the ship and in some ways was better then those who had already been onboard.

She had a name, 'The Adventurer' but it didn't suit her as well as it could have. She was not a wanderer as there was always someplace new she was destined to find. Jack could sense that in her and he secretly called her 'The Pearl' or a better rarer find, 'The Black Pearl.' She'd whispered the name to him on the wind the first day he'd stepped foot onto the scrubbed decks.

Mystery, rarity, intrigue, and respect she carried but only he knew her true name. One day he'd be sure that everyone knew it, they would vie for a place among her crew but only the best would be selected.

"Jack," a voice broke into his reverie, "c'mon down! I saved you some bread and rum."

"One moment," He yelled down from the ropes, smiling he used one of them to land agiley in front of William Turner. Most people called him Bootstrap or Bootstrap Bill but Jack preferred to call him by his real name. How they got Bill from William he'd never know.

Tall, muscularly lean, and good-humored William was well favored by whomever he met. It was not a mystery why, the man could charm the very fish out of the waters if he had a mind to. He was only a few years older than Jack was and rumor said that he had a son and wife living in Port Royale. The son would be about three now and William thought about him often.

The ocean held him in her thrall, same as Jack. While William thought about family and his son but couldn't bring himself to actually setttle down with them. Jack had never been to Port Royale and the waters of the Caribbean were a lot friendlier than those of dark London.

He could sometimes see clear to the sand at the bottom and the water was a greenish-blue color instead of the unchanging black it had been. Oh yes, Jack much preferred the Caribbean to London anytime. Here he had the chance to start over again, leave little Jack Elstran behind and throw himself fully into being Jack Sparrow. Sparrow wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, he could take on whatever life threw at him with an open-mind and guarded heart.

Jack Elstran had been left in London and he never wanted to face him again. Kayrna he would find again one day, he knew the name of the man who had her. Dalver, that was who and Jack could track him down once he moved up in rank.

The crew treated him as one of them and he got along with them well with the exception of Barbossa. While they were on friendly terms, there was something about the man that Jack didn't trust. He was first-mate so Jack was sure not to give any outward signs of suspicion, but he knew that Barbossa was not one to turn his back on.

Out of all of them Jack talked to Gibbs and William the most. He'd heard all about Will's woman, Marisa, and son who carried Bootstrap's name. More than once they'd shared a bottle of rum and talked of things that were forgotten come morning.

A loving woman, place to call home on dry-land, would it be worth it never to feel the boards creak under his feet? To miss the ocean's rage during a storm and her apology afterwards?

Jack had always known he'd rather have his ship and open waters than slow death at port. Just the thought had sadness arc through his heart. He and the ocean had an accord and if he broke the deal he'd have to face consequences that left no room for reneging. He was better off alone, but then he never really was alone to begin with. He had the Pearl and she'd never steer him wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_Authors Note: I haven't been able to update in awhile but I hope this chapter makes up for it well enough. Brought a new familiar character in, yay, and I'm glad that this is the way they met. What she does on her own time, I'll not know, but it's good for Jack. . ._

"It's strange of the Captain to set port so soon," Will commented as he and Jack walked down the gangplank. The colors were the same as when they'd last docked, a red and blue Navy flag flew from the mast.

"Yes, very, he usually does only once or so every few months." Gibbs added.

"Every man for himself."

Gibbs felt no need to watch over the lad anymore. He was part of the crew now and if he didn't make it back in time it was his loss. Two years had gone by, Jack was no longer a simple cabin boy.

Will thought about asking Jack to the tavern with him, but changed his mind. He doubted very much that Jack would accept, anyway.

There was something strange about Jack Sparrow though he couldn't exactly place what it was. He just noticed certain things, like the way he mumbled to himself lost in thought deep at night when the rest of the crew was asleep. When Will had the mind to listen it sounded like he was talking to the ocean. Sailors usually spoke to the water they staked their life on, but it wasnt often that they received an answer.

Jack's pauses and meaningful silence, as if holding a conversation, made Will feel uneasy. Yes, there was something harmlessly odd about Jack Sparrow. Then there was the way that, even now, Jack mimicked the rocking of the ship in his walk. It was hardly discernable, but nevertheless there all the same.

The men parted to do what they would for two whole days. Parts of the Caribbean looked like London all over again. While most everywhere there was bright colors and blue skies, in some parts of the town Jack swore he was back to the bleak, dreary, streets of England.

Take for instance this one . . . Jack circled the building once, it was as good as any. Clean-looking in a run-down way. He was glad to have someplace, however, and made no complaint as he climbed the front stairs.

"If you've no coin, there's no welcome t'be found'ere." A man said as soon as he walked through the paint-stripped door.

"I have, and plenty, mate." Jack replied. It was a tale he'd heard often.

"Pay'fore I'll show you a room." A slight weathered man appeared from inside a grey-lit room.

Jack grinned in amusement, places like these were never lighted properly. Just a few more lit lamps could make it so much more welcoming and increase profit, but no one ever thought of such things.

"A sovereign enough?" Jack reached into the purse at his waist and extracted said coin. He could feel himself smiling ruefully thinking back to when a shilling had seemed an enormous amount of money.

"At'll be plenty," the man smiled at the profit, "sixth door to your left."

"Thanks very much," Jack walked down a hallway seeing more rooms around the corner. All of them were the same, candle on a wooden bedside bureau, narrow heavily blanketed bed, fireplace, and a small window were the rooms' only decoration.

Jack would be sure to keep all he owned with him at all times. The inn-keeper he didn't trust, men who profited from money could be bought for any price.

Why hadn't he just stayed aboard the Pearl? But the only answer was what had driven him to the city to start with. Barbossa. The rest of the crew went to town, Barbossa had opted to stay and watch the ship. Jack knew a fight would most likely break out between them and so he'd left as well.

Something was wrong, he could feel a heaviness to the air. Stepping out into the hallway he heard muffled crying. He followed the sound and saw a door half open. Sitting on the floor with her head buried in the crook of her arms was a woman.

She hadn't noticed that the door had creaked open and didn't seem to know that she could be heard though she was trying her best to hide it. He should leave her alone, go back to his room and try to get some rest, but something kept him rooted to the floor. What should he do? How best to approach her?

"A tankard o'rum is best fer some. . ." he walked drunkenly through the door, "ergh, beg pardon." He interrupted himself in the middle of his song, "Seems I've lost me way."

"Down the hall, for it not be here." She quickly wiped her luminous blue eyes.

"D'you mind," he motioned to his chair and made his eyes roll as if he were about to keel over. She nodded and sighed wearily. Not exactly the reaction he was hoping for but she hadn't ordered him out at least.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Why were you crying?" Jack countered.

"That's none of your concern," she said firmly.

"Far be it from me to interrupt a lady in her woe, but I'm having a thought'ere. I'm sure you know what you're doing and that you can take of yourself, but what happens if I have what can help you? I'll leave you alone if that's what you really want, and ne'er will you see me again" Jack motioned towards the door.

"What would you expect in return? Why do you even care about me to start with?" her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I care because I know what its like to be alone in the midst of a crowd. I don't expect anything from you, I give you my word."

"You're a pirate, aren't you." She stated taking in the way he was dressed. While he wasn't rough looking like some of the other pirates she'd met, there was the faint smell of salt to his clothes and the sailor's look in his eyes.

"Does it make any difference," he crossed his arms and stretched his long boot-clad legs out in front of him.

"It could. . . considering you're sitting in my room." She glanced at the door nervously not wanting to be hanged along with the daft buccaneer.

"I'm terribly sorry then, miss," he swept his hat off with a flourish, "'twas foolish of me, a pirate and all, to enter your room with such little regard for your safety."

"No, no. . . " she hastened to try and make amends, though she didn't know why, "I didn't mean it that way at all. I really am sorry, will you at least tell me your name?"

"If you'll speak yours first," he waited braced against her doorframe, even such a simple pose commanded her attention. There was something different about him, how could he exude power and kindness at the same time? The men she'd known were one or the other and kindness wasn't very long-lasting once they had what they wanted.

"Giselle," she replied self-consciously twirling a blonde lock of hair around her hand.

"Jack," he spoke his name as promised.

"I truly am sorry. . ." she trailed off when Jack shook his head.

"Not necessary, pirates are dangerous creatures, best stay away from us. Now, why were you crying? We've determined I'm a pirate and you're a fine damsel in distress. Me, being a scalawag of the sea, can't be expected to help, is what your thinking, but that's what I aim to do with the hope you'll look more favorably on my kind, scurrilous as we are."

"I told you," she replied in confusion, "I don't want your help."

"No, no, if you didn't want help you wouldn't be here. You would be off somewhere drowning your sorrows or trying to barter passage. Instead, you're here and there has to be a reason why."

"Do you always start off conversations acting drunk," she wasn't sure if she liked this man. Drunk one minute, sober the next, riddling and confusing her on purpose it seemed.

"No, sometimes I really am, makes things a lot more interesting to be sure." He looked up at her through half-hooded eyes.

"I'll bet it does," she evaded his question yet again. Jack stood and offered her his hand. She accepted and stood gracefully brushing off her skirts.

"What exactly, if you don't mind me asking, are you doing here?"

Giselle stared at him in shock, he was staring at her critically and not seeing what was so clearly evident. Not able to find words she drew a hand down the length of her gown.

Jack's gaze was drawn to where she gestured and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor when he saw her gently rounded stomach and stretched dress. He immediately drew her to a sitting position on the bed and poured her a glass of water from a basin on the bureau.

"So you're here because you're with child," he asked curiously.

"No," she felt the strange urge to laugh and cry again at the same time, "I'm here because the father of this child deemed it necessary to leave and not take responsibility for what he half helped cause!"

"That is a problem then, isn't it." Jack mused, it seemed his lot in life to find trouble wherever he went. Kyra had mentioned it a few times herself. He could hear her voice laughingly exasperated, 'can't we go anywhere, Jack, without someone asking you for help or you offering your assistance?'

Jack had always liked to think it was their mother watching over him to make sure she still had a hand in his upbringing. By placing people whom he could help in his way she could make sure that he'd keep in touch with humanity and not become Brahm. There was no worry of that, Jack Sparrow kept her memory dear and happily cursed his father each time he looked back.

"He took all the money, my extra clothes, traveling fare, and now he's gone. I ought never to have trusted him, the lout. Men rule this world, us women have no place in it," she glared at Jack as if blaming him for all her problems.

"No use dwelling on the past," Jack said quickly sensing trouble, "what's done is done, now you can only do what you will with what you have."

"But-"

"Is there anyplace you could find solace? Anyone that could help you?"

"Only Tortuga," she sighed, "it's not far from here, but I need to get money somehow and how am I going to do that? Not much work for a pregnant woman who has not one credit to her name. . ."

"Alright, one moment don't let your thoughts get ahead of you," Fact of the matter was that he had money now and he had a steady job in piracy. There would always be more swag and looting, he'd been worse off once upon a time.

He reached for the small purse tied to his belt and handed it to her. He had no need of it now and he had a few sovereigns in his other pocket. Jack knew the way of pick-pocketing and if one of them managed to get past his defenses, they were welcome to the treasure.

"What? Why?" she asked staring at the fortune he'd dropped into her lap.

"Why not, love?" Jack smiled as if he did this all time.

"If you ever dock in Tortuga, fine me there. I'll pay you back right and proper." Some of the weariness left her eyes. She looked more the woman she used to be, mischevious and seductive, Jack raised an eyebrow at the change. He'd have to be careful of this one, it seemed she, too, could change personalities at whim.

I'll be sure to do that," Jack bowed looking for all like a member of the gentry and she heard his footfalls echo on the wooden floorboards. She clutched the purse to her heart and stood determinately. She was Giselle Harowa and nothing would keep her from her task now. She smiled wickedly at the innkeeper as she swept out the front door. First stop, a tailor, second stop, Tortuga.

Jack lay on the wooden bed and rested his hands together over his stomach, an idle grin on his face. He saw Giselle walk proudly down the street head held high. Sleep took him, but he swore somewhere in the swirling mist he heard a woman's laughter. 'That's my boy, Jack. Help others when they most need it and you'll find help in the darkest of times.' Bringing his hand up to touch one of the feathers in his hair he finally fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"There's a hanging!" Tthe innkeeper knocked on Jack's door loudly, "first in over a month!"

"A hanging," Jack repeated, he'd heard of such things before but had never seen one.

"Aye, village square. Heard it's a pirate or thief of some sort," a malicious smile lit the innkeepers face and he hurried away from the door. Jack sat up and blinked the sleep from his eyes, did he really want to go? He had at least a day and a half left before he had to return to the ship. . . what was the harm in it?

He checked to make sure that everything was as he'd left it. The shawl around his waist, his bandanna in place, several coins still in his pockets, and the small dagger in the fold of his boot. With everything accounted for Jack walked past the rows of rooms and followed the sound of screaming and cheering.

He stood toward the back of the crowd. He could see everything, but he managed to avoid the cloying nearness of everyone else. A ragged, burly sailor was led forward. His wrists were bound in front of him though there was a look of pride to him that made the people jeer all the more. Nothing like the hope of breaking a man's pride, Jack though scathingly.

Jack felt the fear the man must be feeling, having all of the people's eyes on him. The cheers for death echoing in his ears, the coarse rope biting into his skin, the hot sun beating down on him, and most importantly the dread of no escape as men stood with guns leveled at his chest. It was either a bullet to the heart or strangulation, there was no way out.

Would this be his fate one day? Jack pulled himself out of his inner speculation before things went too far. He couldn't help the doubt swirling in his mind, would he be standing there one day? Would life flash before his eyes as the lever was drawn and he went plummeting to his death? He knew the routine, Will had told him one night the cost of being a pirate. He'd be left hanging there for three tides before his body was crudely buried or tossed into the sea never more to be thought of by another.

He couldn't pull his eyes away from the events unfurling before him. The man was led to the hidden panel and the hangman stepped up to place a cloth over his eyes. Swiping it away rebelliously the prisoner stared out to the horizon, if he were to die he'd not die blindly.

"We commit this man's soul to the Everlasting Father and hope his sins may be forgiven. May God take pity on his soul," a clergyman announced crossing himself as he looked to the sky.

"Any last-" the hangman started to say. . .

"I don't need pity," the man announced with a raise of his chin, "Better to free than tied by the chains that bind people like you."

The lever was pulled and the man jerked as the rope tautened and his neck snapped. Jack's eyes never left the man. He was morbidly fascinated by the whole thing, it was terrible as it was beautiful. Better to free...

The crowd dispersed and Jack left as well before any of them could catch a good glimpse of him.

"'s a pirates fate," Jack pivoted slightly protecting his back out of habit. Barbossa smiled mockingly at the action.

"Only if they're caught," Jack countered trying to ignore the man. He knew that this somehow would end up with Barbossa taunting him and since fighting at port didn't go against the Captain's rules there'd be none to stop them.

"But they're al'ays caught. In one way or 'nother, boy, we all come to the same end," the monkey chattered in agreement.

"Not today and not by a hangman," Jack said shortly, why wouldn't the infernal man just go away?

"Whose to say? Not you certainly. It could be tomorrow, or the next day, we have no control o'er such matters," Barbossa kept pace easily with Jack not making any move of getting tired of the conversation.

"Look," Jack stopped abruptly and faced Barbossa squarely, "you've made it excessively clear that you don't like me, nor want me anywhere near you. Why, then, trail after me?"

"I've naught against you," Barbossa took out a green apple and shined it on his grimy shirtfront, "I just don't want any upstart lad thinking it's he who'll upstage me."

"I've no desire to take your place on the Pe-, er, the Adventurer. I'm a cabin boy, rigging lad. . . I'm nowhere near your rank." Jack stated calmly taking a deep breath, he wouldn't stay cabin boy forever, Barbossa would pay one day.

"Just so you don't have any misconceptions of how things are," Barbossa tipped his head mockingly and took a bite of the apple.

"Things are about to change," Jack whispered as Barbossa walked off, the money turned and leered. Jack had the insane urge to knock it over the head with something. He hated that animal, dirty, disgusting, intolerable. Rather like it's owner at that.

"Don't let him get to you," William emerged from the shadows of a building Jack walked past.

"I don't."

"Just so you know, he plans to be Captain next. Watch your back around him, Jack. Most everyone knows that you've more skill on the Adventurer than most who just sign on as you did. Barbossa can see the threat and he's not going to take too kindly towards it."

"I'm only eighteen!" Jack felt a fission of pride go through him at William's words, imagine being Captain of his Pearl!

"Doesn't matter. Takes a certain man to handle a ship like that. Captain sees how you don't give her quarter and that you're on top rigging in the middle of any storms. He sees and remembers. Remember, watch your back."

"No worries, mate." Jack decided this was a good time to change subject, "If I were made Captain the first person to go is Barbossa."

"Don't let him hear that," Will stared at Jack's profile as they walked back to the ship. A quiet expression was on his face and in his eyes was the look that he knew all to well. The sea was reflected in the brown depths and this was why some of the crew thought him half-mad. There was no hope for it, Will sighed, Jack walked to his own beat and one day would show them all.

"You know. . ." Jack hesitated, "I wouldn't want Captainship, I'd hand it o'er to you."

"What? Whatever for?" Will sputtered, he wanted no part of that. He'd disband and make his way on land if it ever came to that.

"Well, comes to mind that you always know what you're doing. You've been sailing longer, you'd make a far better Captain than me." Jack knew that the title of Captain was a dream, nothing more, but it hadn't ever hurt to dream.

"No wonder people think you daft," Will clapped Jack on the back, "but I thank you for the thought all the same."

William Turner was a good man and if his son turned out to be anything like his father than the world would be a much better place for it. A good pirate and a good man, a rare combination but one that suited Bootstrap Bill just fine. Jack had made the offer, though and had it refused, a man could do naught but try.

Best not to count chickens however, there still was the small matter of the rightful Captain still being alive, Barbossa to reckon with, and rigging to unknot. The night was just coming to life and Jack intended to meet it whole-heartedly. 'Twas better to be a simple cabin boy then marooned on land.

He could take any job they gave him so long as he wasn't separated from his, er, Vinehbalt's ship. He'd just have to remind himself not to grow overly confident. The thought of meeting the morning current brought deep satisfaction to his heart. The Black Pearl wasn't just a ship, it was his ticket to freedom.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jack was as permanent a crewman as Barbossa was. He had even been offered a raise in rank three times, but all three he had rejected. That had gained him the grudging respect of the Captain who knew most men would have tried to escape the rigging as soon as possible.

Four years had passed and Jack was agile and nimble as ever. He swung from the ropes so easily that Vinehbalt found himself catching his breath if he watched for too long. Tortuga civilians grew used to the handsome lad who swung down to the road with a quick smile and piece of coin for rum.

Jack's refusal had put Barbossa off his trail. It was one of Jack's better plans, he was gaining Vinehbalt's trust and capturing Barbossa in the lie. It had surprised them all when Barbossa had offered to buy Jack a drink at the tavern, but it was still a step towards reconciliation.

"Look! 's a gentleman's ship!" Gibbs yelled from the Crow's Nest. Vinehbalt pulled out a spyglass as the crew waited for instruction.

"Load the cannons," he said smiling, "we need water, a new anchor, and food if it can be found."

"We'll eat like kings if what Gibbs says' true," said one of the men looking at the silhouette hungrily. Jack hung to one of the ropes and sighed, this wasn't the first raid he'd been on and unfortunately it wouldn't be his last.

It wasn't that he was afraid of the other ship's its just he didn't like all the trouble it caused. That's how they got most of their money, supplies, and weapons so hg didn't complain. They were pirates, this was what they did, and if the Pearl had a few cannon holes in her once it was done they were still none the worse for wear.

They were loading cannons which meant the ship was large, but not too big a threat to them. If it was indeed a gentleman's ship not many able-bodied men would be aboard. Jack knew these men used a voyage as excuse for lewd behavior and drinking all around.

"Stay calm and no one gets hurt," Vinehbalt called to the other ship as they came close to the starboard side.

"Pirates," came the horrified scream.

"No, wait, don't," Jack said dully as he watched them load their cannons as well. Apparently his sarcastic comment had been lost on the wind for they fired one that put small a hole in the Adventurer's front side.

The crew laughed at the miniscule mark, the gentleman's ship was no war galleon, it would take more than they had to try and sink the Adventurer.

"They 'ave guts," Barbossa crossed his arms, "'s a shame they'll be strewn o'er the ocean's floor. Return fire, and make no mistake."

Jack felt the air vibrate and knew that the ship wouldn't make it through the battle. It wasn't unusual when Barbossa was in charge, the man lived for the spoils of battle. Jack liked fighting, but he much preferred a worthy opponent. He liked the outcome to be unknown. He liked the stakes to be life and death, kill or be killed. A battle where wits, cunning, and the sheer will to endure would last them through the fight. Attacking those without a chance. . . there was no challenge to that.

The cannons exploded acrid smoke and the pirates waited to see how much damage had been done. To their surprise, with only two blasts of their cannons, the ship was close to capsizing. Jack understood, this ship wasn't made to last in a battle. It was rented out to those that only wanted a good time, the passengers would be thinking of pleasure and luxury without a thought to their survival.

"Prepare to board," Barbossa yelled as the next cannon was fired. The ship was hanging precariously in the balance, if another shot was fired she would go up in smoke. Unfortunately, they didn't have a chance, an explosion rent the air and then all that was left of the ship was wooden crates and various other items floating in the water.

"The bloody idiots," Pintel exclaimed, "what's t'purpose in'at?"

"We're pirates," Jack landed solidly on deck ready to pilfer whatever they could from the water, "they didn't want to become prisoners so they blew their own blasted ship to smithereens."

"Gather all ye can, mates. Anchors not likely but food, supplies, and trinkets to sell are all fair game." Vinehbalt met Jack's eyes with a similar look of disappointment. He'd remained silent through the battle, Jack knew he'd call Barbossa into his cabin for a word later.

"Aye, aye, Captain." The crew made quick work of the loot and pretty soon there was a pile of collected items on deck.

"Ooh. . ." one of the men laughed, "perfume and oils. This could catch a tidy sum should we sell it next port."

"Let me see that," Barbossa's eyes narrowed and he knelt to inspect the items in the chest.

"What would ye wan' with'at?" Pintel asked.

"Just something to send to me son, he has to have something to give his girl, eh?"

"'S all yours." Vinehbalt turned aside and looked through another trunk with a few jewels and fabrics.

Jack stayed suspicious, there had been other such items from the last ship, but Barbossa hadn't even glanced at them then. What was so important about these? They were either worth a lot or not what they seemed. Jack couldn't say anything about it without the distrust turning on him but he'd be sure to keep an eye out.

"You have a son?" Jack asked. He might have guessed, Barbossa was forty-five to fifty at least, it was highly probable that the man have a family somewhere.

"Aye. He's a year or so younger than you," his expression stayed neutral and preventing Jack from reading his properly.

"What's his name," Jack inquired.

"Turak," Jack spotted some oddly shaped coins and at the acquiescent look from Vinehbalt pocketed them. That was all he wanted, he had no interest in anything else. There was, unfortunately, no food found, but there were several trunks of spices, cloth, and one with lady's mirrors and gowns.

"Why does a ship like that," Jack motioned to where the ship had been floating, "have such items like these?"

"Never can tell," Vinehbalt replied, "not all of them are from one voyage. No, most of them are stored below decks for use by any who'd rent the ship. In result of casualty. . ." he waved an arm towards the men carting what was left to the brig.

Jack climbed back up the rigging, watched as Barbossa took his place near the Captain, watched as they left the wreckage behind them, and smiled as Gibbs poured rum into his newly pillaged flask.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"The Captain! Something's wrong with the Captain!" Ragetti burst from Vinehbalt's quarters with a stricken look on his face. Three months had passed in relative peace, Jack swung down onto the deck immediately at the news.

"What? What's a matter," Gibbs asked hurrying over from his post.

"'e's dying," Barbossa said quietly. A hush fell over the crew as the implication of that statement sunk in. Only the waves furious roar was heard as the wind howled angrily.

"He's still alive," Jack asked, he wasn't going to stand around while his captain died. He respected Vinehbalt too much for his passing to mean nothing.

"Just barely," Barbossa nodded towards the closed doors. Jack strode meaningfully to them and entered the humid room.

He inwardly flinched when he felt the oppressive current in the air pass through him. Even if Barbossa hadn't been so informative they would have been able to tell as soon as they walked through the door. Death was something it was hard not to notice, the heaviness to the atmosphere, the last sigh of breath, it was something that once witnessed could never be forgotten.

"Captain," Jack pulled a chair over to the cot and peered into Vinehbalt's cloudy brown eyes.

"Jack, be that you, lad," he sat up higher in the bed not willing to let his crew see him in such a weakened condition. Death might be calling his name, but he was first Captain of the ship and as such would play the part regardless of pain or death.

"Aye, sir," Jack removed his hat respectfully.

"Good," Vinehbalt cleared his throat, "over there, boy. Fetch me that parchment and the quill."

Jack did as was requested, but he couldn't stop the slight tremor that ran through his hand when he saw what they were. It was the ship's log and ownership papers. He dipped the white-feathered quill into ink and presented it carefully as not to let the quill drip ink.

"Call Barbossa, then you come back, too," he coughed and Jack hurried to do his bidding. From the looks of things Vinehbalt didn't have too much longer to live. He felt the jealousy surge through his mind when he realized that Barbossa would likely be made Captain next. He'd have to be immensly careful about what he said and did now.

If Barbossa would let him stay on, he'd be glad to. There was no way that he'd willingly leave the Pearl to. Sinister thoughts crossed his mind, but were stanchly abandoned. Jack knew he wouldn't stage a mutiny even if he could, the role of Captain was bestowed on those worthy and to go against Vinehbalt's wishes...

"He called for me?" Barbossa was standing outside the door, a slight knowing grin seemed to linger around his mouth.

"Yes, he wants to speak to both of us." Jack let Barbossa go first for two reasons. One, he didn't want to expose his back and, two, if Barbossa were to be Captain... better to feign respect now than regret it later.

"Barbossa, Jack, take a seat." The parchment and quill were held on his blanket-clad lap and he regarded them both solemnly. "You all know well what's happening and I won't leave 'the Adventurer' to just anyone. Barbossa, you've been my loyal first mate and friend for many years. I couldn't have asked for a better confidante or crewman."

"Just doing my job, Captain," Barbossa tipped his head accepting the praise honorably.

"That's why I want you to remain first mate to Jack here. He'll need all the help you can give him. He has the potential to be one of the greatest pirate captains the Caribbean has seen. I want the two of you guiding this ship. You'll not let anything happen to her and she'll take care of you." He coughed and the sound rattled in his lungs.

The shock reverberating through Jack's mind was paralyzing. He was going to be Captain? Captain Jack Sparrow. But then he glanced over at Barbossa and a mix of anger and worry combined. Guilt came in too when he realized the path his thoughts had taken and with Vinehbalt still alive.

"I appreciate the compliments, Captain, but wouldn't Jack be better served with me as Captain, to teach him the ways before passing the title to him?"

"Barbossa, you'd make a grand pirate captain, it's a choice that's weighed heavily on my mind. Either of you, I'm sure, would run 'The Adventurer' steady and admirably. You have the experience, Jack has youth and potential. Hector, you could comandeer a ship with the best of them, I want you to train Jack to do the same. I learned as Captain, I want him to have the same opportunity I had."

Barbossa frowned at the use of his christian name as Jack hid a smile. No one called him Hector, it was a sign of the Captain's failing health that it be spoken at all.

"Do you both accept? Let's just say that this is my last wishes and in order to complete the promise I want both of you to sign and make it legal-like," he held out the quill to his first-mate. With his eyes promising retribution Barbossa signed his name with a flourish. Jack signed his name with the traditional bird marking over the S.

"Take care of her, men, and she'll respond in kind," with those last words Vinehbalt closed his eyes and descended to the ranks of the dead. Barbossa half-growled in the back of his throat and turning on his heel he left the room.

"Vinehbalt is dead," he called out standing in the middle of the ship's deck. "Taking over as your Captain is... Jack Sparrow!"The words seemed more curse than congratulations.

William met Jack's eyes apprehensively. It was no less than he had expected. Vinehbalt had made Jack captain of 'the Adventurer' and now there would be the equivalent of hell to pay. No matter, Will planned to stay by Jack's side through thick and thin, he knew that Gibbs would, as well. Pintel and Ragetti didn't seem to have any loyalty, they could be easily bought. The rest of the crew, too, seemed content to follow rather than lead.

"What're your orders, Cap'n?" Gibbs asked.

"Keep'er on a steady course and we'll prepare Vinehbalt for proper burial. It's the least we can do, a pirate to the death." He met Barbossa's stare openly and refused to back down. Now that he was Captain he made the rules and he'd not give in to blackmail or threats. The Pearl was finally his, but he'd wait for a more opportune moment to change the name.

He went over to the ship's wheel and only hesitated a moment before he touched the smooth and shining surface. He'd been waiting for this moment it seemed forever. The wheel turned under his hand, a bond sealed in blood and death didn't seem a good portent for the future, but as Jack looked to the front of his ship he could swear he heard her laughter. She was pleased with the turn of events, already Jack felt her happiness.

So long as his ship was happy, he'd be content, as well. He knew that she owned him, always would, but she was kind to those not trying to exert their control. It was a give and take relationship, he'd not try to dominate her and crush her spirit. If she was prepared to do her best for him, he could offer her nothing less in return.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_Authors Note: Oh my goodness, I haven't updated in the longest time! I was busy trying to study for a History exam. . . and then I ended up writing story sequences for future chapters. Let just say that there's one that has me wincing as I read it. But anyway, in order to get to said chapters I'm going to need to write these..._

_Authors Note 2: I just finished watching Once Upon a Time in Mexico, thinking of another fic for Agent Sands too, my thought train is somewhat in Sands' POV but mostly in Jack's. It's so complicated to want to write two stories at the same time. !_

At the urging of both William and Gibbs, Jack had taken Vinehbalt's quarters as his own. It seemed wrong to him, somehow, as he left the rest of the crew to go below decks.

Jack had hung a hammock above the bed. The cot in which Vinehbalt had passed his last breath remained unused. He wouldn't have found rest in it. Jack would have had the bed removed save for the doorway's being too narrow for its excavation.

He rummaged through some of Vinehbalt's old papers that were stacked on the desk. Underneath a pile of maps was an old wooden compass. What was this? He searched through some more of the clutter and found a slightly burned piece of parchment that was loosely written in hurried handwriting.

He held it up to the light and read it through quickly. If this was what he thought... he'd found a map to treasure! Sure enough, a clear description of the route through the ocean led to a hidden island inlet depicted in great detail.

One of the drawings confused him, there seemed to be a large stone case with strange carvings on it. A coin was drawn with a strange skeleton on the front, to the side of it someone had drawn a skull and crossbones with sword a crossing through the eye. What was the meaning of that? A warning of some kind or was it an accurate depiction of the treasure?

The stone coffer looked to be quite large, the amount of coins inside would leave them all able to retire and live on a golden island for the rest of their lives! Now all Jack had to do was wait for the most opportune moment to tell the crew. It would be better to share the news sooner rather than later, the ship was already on the course they'd need to take.

Jack opened the window before he went to lie down on the hammock. Gray clouds covered the moon, he didn't waste any time in going for the door. The rain was at least a quarter of an hour away, but he needed, wanted, to be out there manning the wheel.

* * *

"Hold her in, men," he shouted to be heard over the thunder and lightning that crashed in the sky. The oarsman understood and added extra effort in keeping the ship on a steady course.

There were no slaves aboard, the men would each take a shift of rowing when it was needed. Even Barbossa had agreed it was a good idea. They had heard tell of slaves hosting a mutiny, Jack wouldn't take any risks with his ship.

"Captain," William yelled pulling on one of the ropes, "canvas won't hold much longer!"

"She can take it. Release some of the pressure on'er middle." Jack looked up to where the white was strained against the wind. As Captain he had to watch all parts of the ship to be sure that no fatal accidents would occur. Years of working ropes and fighting the sails left him able to tell to within an inch of what the fabric could withstand.

He kept track of the winds movement and change so he could adjust the wheel accordingly and not have the Pearl fighting against them. From the looks of things the storm had just about blown itself out. The clouds were lighter against the ebony night sky.

He loved being in control of the Pearl, but he missed hanging on to the ropes around him as the ship tossed dangerously in the waves. The thrill of danger, knowing that at any moment he could go crashing to his death in the relentless waves, was like no other feeling.

The rain pelting his face and running off the brim of his hat didn't phase him in the slightest. The rain was pure and as unsalted as it fell, it was only as the drops reached the frothing ocean did they become mixed with salt.

The storm slowly abated leaving the stars free to shine down upon them again. Men walked around deck checking for damages and how their supplies fared.

"We lost a barrel of rum and a bushel of apples," Barbossa looked disappointed.

"That all," Jack asked, it seemed too small a sum for the intensity of the storm.

"So far's I know, Captain," the monkey chattered angrily on Barbossa's shoulder. Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes, seems the animal was even more like it's owner than he'd figured.

"Very well, go get some rest. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

"I'll take over from here if you'd prefer," Barbossa offered, "you haven't had rest all day."

"Alright. . . thank you then." Jack saw no profit in arguing except to make the older man even more on edge then he was. He wanted to be up and about by dawn, he wouldn't trust any except for William or Gibbs on deck alone during the day. There was a conniving look to Hector Barbossa, Jack was glad there was always someone he trusted watching the man.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_Authors Note: I wanted this to be one of the better chapters, where small motions that are passed down to Will. Gestures and facial expressions that will later remind Jack of dear Bootstrap._

_Keep that in mind, as you read, I tried my best to bring young Will into this to establish a correlation between the two men. I don't know how well I succeeded, but hopefully Jack's insight helped._

_Authors Note 2: A lot of you might remember the mutiny scene from Midnight Revenge, but I changed some of it around. I just have to go to Midnight Rescue and fix grammar and stuff now that I understand. I'll rectify things soon, promise. And thank you JackFan2 for helping me with all of this. For introducing me around and all the encouragement!_

Barbossa still couldn't believe that Jack Sparrow had managed to charm his way into Captain-hood! He'd always known there was something to be wary of in the boy. His suspicions had been quelled for awhile when the whelp had shown no desire to be raised in rank, but now it was made clear that it had been just another part of his plan.

The potion he'd slipped to the Captain seemed to have tragically backfired. Vinehbalt had put the annoying kid in charge! The best first-mate he'd ever had, all the years of being second-rate... Barbossa spit into the ocean and cursed Vinehbalt's name.

Barbossa cursed the gentleman's ship, for if they hadn't looted ithis plan would never have taken form. Barbossa thought he'd struck gold with the vials of chemicals and potions.

The crew onboard were only concerned with coin and jewels, they had no use for what they thought was perfume. Barbossa could tell the difference, and while he did have a son, the trunk had more use to him than it ever would for Turak.

He damned the fates for the hundredth time, his plan had been meticulously planned. He'd had several talks with Vinehbalt certain the captain understood what Barbossa wanted, deserved.

"We have a direct route, don't we." Barbossa stood steadily and regarded Jack calmly.

"Why would you be asking," Jack replied pretending to be preoccupied with maneuvering through the strait. He hadn't told anyone of their course, to the crew he'd made it seem as if they were wandering, exploring sights unseen.

"Because you've a compass and have the habit of checking it every few hours."

"'Twas Vinehbalt's, been meaning to get one of my own."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere new, different, a new port of my choosing," Jack could make the conversation last forever if he had a mind too.

"I don't aim to float on this godforsaken ocean forever, we'll need food, some pleasurable company, rum." Barbossa wouldn't back down either, Jack knew, and that made things all the more interesting. "As crew we'll be wanting to know where we're going and when we'll be there."

"And you'll be finding out soon," Jack paused, "unless someone foolish attacks or if the Navy catches up with us... then we'll not have to worry about it anymore, eh?"

"If I die, I'll want to know what I'm dying for..." Jack smiled as Barbossa manipulated the conversation to his prior question.

"If you're dead there's no more thinking to be done, aye?" Jack snapped the compass shut.

"I don't want to be led on a fool's chase."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not a fool."

"Jack. . ."

"Where we're going no one has to worry about 'til we get there. Once we're there you'll remember how we got there so no further questions need be asked. But in order for us to be getting there you'll have to trust me else you'll never find out where we're going, savvy?"

"Which still leaves us with the problem of sailing to a destination only you know, with only your word that you'll not get us killed in the meantime."

"Ah, but if you trusted me you'd not be worrying about me leading you to impending death, and you'd be willing to follow me. You wouldn't have reason to doubt my word. A crew helps and trusts their Captain, as part of my crew I expect you to offer that loyalty."

"If I knew the coordinates I'd be able to help you a bit more than I am now, Captain." Barbossa didn't bother to hide the animosity he had toward Jack and the word Captain together in one sentence.

"That's why I'm at the wheel from morning to night. I'll get us there, no worries. Can you put your trust in me or can you not? Simple question, actions speak louder than any words."

"You're the Captain," Barbossa's eyes were downcast to hide his frustration and hatred, but Jack knew he had won this round. And, as was ever the case, he knew Barbossa would make him pay for it later.

* * *

Later, standing above decks with the crew surrounding him he knew that he should have stuck to his instincts. The crew began asking questions and Jack's confident evasivness hadn't placated them. He had told them the course set and what he hoped to find. He'd known Barbossa was a scurvy hell-dog, but Jack hadn't seen the absolute evil in the man.

Jack would never have led a mutiny, it went against his honor. Apparently, Barbossa didn't share the same moral and ethics.

"But he's Captain! We cant. . ."

"He's a black-hearted scoundrel, he'll do as he wants," Jack interrupted before Bootstrap risked his life any further.

"Barbossa, you bloody coward!" Gibbs exclaimed in outrage.

Jack stared at Gibbs in frustration speaking again to draw Barbossa's wrath, he was getting damned tired of drawing ire onto himself, it never ended well. "It's my ship... Hector... you think to take her from me?"

"Not another word, Jack," Barbossa growled as he heard his name, "The Pearl _is_ mine as the treasure will be."

"I'll see you rot in hell," Jack snarled, he regretted ever giving the ships real name. The sound of it in Barbossa's long drawl turned his stomach.

"You're a fool. You gave us the bearings, showed us the map, what need have we of you?" Barbossa smirked, "I always was the better Captain."

"Barbossa!" William elbowed his way to Jack's side and then stood in front of him as if shielding him from harm, "we cant maroon him! T'isnt right, he didn't do anything that warrants a mutiny!"

"You're relatively new to the ship, Bootstrap, so I'll be forgetting the transgression, but speak out again and I'll be sure you never speak another word again."

"New to the ship," William said incredulously, "only compared to you, you worthless bastard."

"Aye. Don't do anything... stupid, mate." Jack's eyes glittered with hidden meaning as he firmly pushed him back into the crowd.

William stared at him a moment before understanding dawned on his features. Jack didn't know why, there would be no escape this time, but he had to make Will back down somehow. William fell silent, but from the way he clutched his pistol Jack knew he was itching to use it.

"That's the wisest decision you've made the entire time." Barbossa looked down at Jack disdainfully.

He'd never liked the boy and he would finally get his due. A small island was in the distance, Jack always had went on about how they'd retire rich as kings to an island of their own. An idea dawned. . .

"Look to the horizon, Captain, and you'll see your new home. You can be it's governor as you always wanted," he smiled satisfied with the idea.

"Actually-" Jack protested, it had been the men on their islands never him. Jack would have stayed on the Pearl until death called him home. With his dying breath he had hoped to be cast into the depths of the ocean forever.

"We're all civilized men, are we not," Barbossa smiled and the monkey clapped itshands mockingly. Jack _hated_ that animal, he'd rip the creature's head from its body if it was the last thing he did. "Here be a pistol, one shot, mind you. Take good care of it, it'll be your only friend."

"Make him walk the plank!" Jack heard the voice from far-away, the whole thing seemed so surreal. These were men he'd trusted, had protected, treated fairly, for them to throw their lot in with Barbossa...

"Nay. Fire him from the cannons! Aim for the trees." The men laughed perversely. Will made a move to load the pistol but thankfully Gibbs intervened.

"I rather like the first idea myself." Barbossa was already taking charge, Jack thought with a snort. "Walk the plank, Jack."

"Rot in hell, Barbossa." If he was to be marooned he'd damn well go down trying. Humor had always been his friend, but a part of him still tried to deny the horror of this situation.

"The plank or the cannon, it's your choice." Barbossa crossed his arms, either choice would bring the desired result. He was finally in charge, just as it should be.

Jack stared at the island. White sand, endless horizon, palm trees, and sufficient shade were the only furnishings.

Jack stepped onto a rickety board the pirates had attached to the ship. It had amused them at the time so Jack hadn't objected, and now with a mocking bow he ddove into the water gracefully after the pistol Barbossa had thrown overboard.

As he surfaced with the precious possession and blinked saltwater from his eyes he heard words that turned the blood in his veins to ice.

"Fire men," bullets stirred the air around him, two of them tore into his shoulder. The pain ripped through him and he was forced back underwater. Saltwater filled his lungs and he strangled for air.

The waves and wind blinded him, but he swam as best he could to where he hoped the shore was. The blood streaming from the wounds would no doubt attract all types of sea animals.

He tried not to move his arm too much, had the bullets entered and exited cleanly? He really hoped so it would be hell getting them out otherwise.

The waves helped him, pushing him toward the island rather then working against him. His sight cleared marginally as he reached shore. He was grateful now for the saltwater, it had purged the shot wounds and there was no longer so much blood.

A fine red line disturbed the white sand. He watched the black sails of the Pearl billow in the wind, then Barbossa waved mockingly as the ship left. Jack aimed the pistol following Barbossa's figure. It was useless, his ship and the man comanding it was out of range.

Desperation consumed him, he mentally restricted himself from shouting and screaming for them to come back. He was going to die on this godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere.

Jack tore the sleeve from his shirt to inspect the damage. The wounds were clean, the bullet's had passed through his arm. He tied a tourniquet around his arm using his good hand and his teeth. It would have to do for now.

He couldn't think anymore, he needed to sleep and let his body heal. The sand seemed to drag him down and the sun bore on and through him relentlessly. He collapsed under the nearest palm tree's shade and closed his eyes, the throbbing in his head ceased and he fell into a restless sleep.

_Authors Note 3: I've decided to make his story to Elizabeth just that. Another story. He already has the turtle myth and the cannibal story going around, why not make a less hard to believe one for the ladies? Only he would know the truth of the horrors that he'll face. It's Jack's demons to contend with and he'll beat them by his own doing and not let anyone know of what it's taken from him. Thank you all for your comments and advice! _


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_Authors Note: Thank you JackFan2! I was writing 'Never Again' the Agent Sands fic, (THANKS TO ALL WHO REVIEWED!) and she reminded me not to neglect this story. No, neglecting Jack would be bad._

He was dying of thrist, it was his third day on the island and the salt-water he'd forced himself to drink hadn't helped at all. He'd drink bilge-water, if it were offered, at this point. Anything to escape the burning in his throat, his tongue felt swollen, he'd have sold his soul for some water.

To keep from going insane he walked slowly around the island. He could see a circle of his footsteps etched into the sand. Hours passed, he made another circuit of the island trying to step directly into his previous footsteps as a source of entertainment.

Two days later and he no longer had any energy to move. He slept, woke up, and slept again waiting for death to take him. The ache in his stomach was only equaled by the rage in his heart. So much for a loyal crew, hadn't he always put their welfare over his own? He'd considered most of them as friends, the closest being William and Gibbs. Nothing mattered, the stillness was suffocating him. . . he didn't know what was wrong or right anymore.

Was there any such thing? Barbossa didn't seem goverened by it. William Turner had a family, but he neglected them for his love of the ocean. Gibbs was the only one seemingly true to the idea of honor. Vinehbalt had been honorable, but that hadnt stopped him from killing, looting, innocent people had died. Jack had long ago stopped thinking of them as innocent.

The only thing he _was_ certain of-- death would be his choice, not one made for him. He reached for the pistol and loaded it with a steady hand. Could he pull the trigger? It would all be over with a loud bang and flash of lead as it embedded itself in his brain.

Jack stared at it, how easy it would be. What would happen to him then? He would lie forever on this island until time erased his passing. So much for being a pirate captain. He was to die on land, the one thing he never had wanted to do.

He threw the pistol away with a feral snarl. No! He'd not take the cowards way out. A quick and painless death. . . his name was Jack Sparrow and his time was not over yet. Far from over, it had barely begun! He stumbled over to where the pistol lay and attached it back to his shawl.

Only one man would the bullet ever know. Only one man would feel the taste the metallic sting and feel the cold fingers of the reaper take him. No one else but Barbossa.

He kicked the sand in rage, his foot hit something solid. Something was different here. . . an almost hollow ringing echoed back to him as he stomped and kicked at the sand. Could it be?

He fell to the ground and saw several grains of sand disappear into cracks in the ground. He desperately pulled armful after armful of sand away. Sweat ran down his face and his shoulder was numb, but he continued until he could almost cry with the hope that welled up inside him.

There was a wooden trapdoor built around brown dirt under the sand. He strained with all of his strength until the door opened.

Stairs led downward to the cool interior of the room, lucky that this was daytime otherwise he wouldn't have been able to see the rows and bottles of rum! Rum! He uncorked one and sank to the ground with his back against the wall. Half of it was downed before he had the sense of mind to slow down.

He was blessedly unfeeling, the alcohol was rushing through his blood and everything was blurring. Bloody good rum this was, too. He laughed and threw the empty bottle into a corner surprised that it hadn't shattered.

Lucky it hadn't, the glass must be thick, it had withstood the heat of the cramped room. Exhaustion overtook him, he fell asleep against the wall not having the strength to close the door against the harsh glare of the sun.

He awoke half-dreaming, he was back aboard the Pearl, wind blowing against his face from an open window, "A tankard of rum is best for some. . ." he lay back and stared at the ceiling drifting back to reality, "but my lass is all I need."

He missed the Pearl, he missed seeing the ocean from on-deck, but most of all he missed his freedom. Freedom wasn't just being able to go and do whatever he pleased, freedom was the knowledge that there was always a choice to be had and options to choose from.

He had the choice of pulling the trigger, of slowly starving to death, of cracking his own neck, carving out his heart, they weren't real options. No, the only choice was to survive. He sighed as his eyes closed, he at least had a way to quench the burning thirst.

The rum burned its way into his stomach, he was in a tavern, a wench on his lap. Jeria? He could smell the flowers in her hair, Kyra sat next to him. He needed to get her out of here, she didn't belong in a tavern.

Gibbs laughter ringing in his ears, Will was singing some bawdy nautical song.

"Watch your language, gents, we've got ladies present." Kyra and Jeria laughed and wrapped their arms around him.

"You look tired, Captain. Might as well rest a bit before we set sail."

"Aye, sleep, maybe for a minute," he rested his head against the wall and sucumbed to unconsciouness Jeria whispering to him sweetly as he was lulled back into the world of dreams and hopes.

* * *

"What the bloody hell is this?!" Jack opened his eyes to the sound of men arguing.

"Someone found our rum. I knew it! I told you they would. The best rum in the Caribbean and we just up and leave it here! Imbecile, I warned you this would happen."

"It's just one bottle, mate 's not like he drank the whole kit and caboodle."

"Just one bottle? And I suppose it'd be you who says, oh it's just a ship we lost. It's just a treasure, and it's just the whole ruddy ocean that'll take our dead and dying corpses."

"I'm sorry, but there seems to be a problem here, aye?" Jack intervened before the two men did themselves bodily harm. Their voices were starting to grate on his nerves and being that he'd spent a week, to his calculations, alone on this island wasn't lost on him.

"Yes there's a problem here! You drank our rum!"

"I'm terribly sorry, but when it came down to me dying on this island or taking a sip o'your rum, I was inclined to the latter choice." Jack cleared his throat, his voice was hoarse and slurring. His vision was blurring, it took everything he had not to drift back to sleep.

"See! He was about to die, Arte."

"So he says." The man named Arte scoffed, "Looks like a pirate to me."

"Pirate?" Jack's eyes snapped open at the word, "Name's Smith, or Smithy if you like."

"Well then, Mr. Smith, what is it that you're doing here?"

"Ship blew to pieces along the rocks out there." Jack waved his hand towards the ocean disgusted with the tremor that ran through his arm, "I swam to shore and found your little cache last night."

"That still doesn't explain why you're wearing what you're wearing."

"There was a party. Aboard the ship, I mean." Getting these men to believe him was going to be too easy. His mind half gone, his body giving out on his as he spoke, and he knew he'd be able to weave a believable story to these men.

"Where are the other people then?" Arte asked scratching his head.

"Died. All of them. It was tragic, very tragic." Jack's expression was rapt with sorrow and regret, he'd have guarded his emotions better, but the emotion served though the men didn't know the real reason.

"So you went as a pirate?"

"Not much else to choose from." Jack explained with the urge to roll his eyes. The men, presumably, had a ship. If they had a ship and a way off the island he'd call them geniuses. "Give us a hand with some of this rum, Mr. Smith, and you've got a place aboard our ship."

Jack got to his feet unsteadily, the world spun around him.

"Give him a minute, Arte, he's been through a bloody sea storm."

"I'm not nursing anyone back to health, he can bleeding well work on the ship or I'll leave him here."

Jack tamed the rage that surged through him back into submission. The man sounded like Brahm. With fury spurning him on Jack shouldered a case of the rum. "Never better, mates, no need to be worried."

He took deep breaths at the pain in his arms and back. His muscles were used to hauling ropes and water-sogged sails, a few cases of rum should be nothing, or so he told himself as his knees threatened to buckle. Jack grit his teeth in determination focusing on the boat docked on the beach. He'd get off this damn island if he had to crawl.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

_Authors Note: Please excuse my lack of knowledge on the East India Trading Company. I've researched them, but it never seems like enough, you know? I hope that what I have suffices, it relies all on my imagination. Heh. I'm really trying and between this story, Agent Sands (who can't be denied either), my other characters for Not Silver and Gold, my time is pretty much accounted for._

"Move!" Jack yelled pushing Arte away from the wheel. The ship had almost capsized twice now and though he wasn't supposed to know anything about sailing it was better than dying.

He turned the wheel with all his strength. Would it be enough? The ship veered away from the tower of water that threatened to drag them under. This was what he'd been waiting for.

The power of the ship under his control, the feel of her battling for life, the rage of the storm as he faced it alone. It was him against the elements and there was an equal chance for both of them to win.

Jack glanced at Arte and Henry, no help was to be had from them. It was all they could do to hold on and not fall overboard. That's what had been the most difficult, staying quiet and watching them fumble around was a task that took all his willpower. The ship was fairly screaming against their ministration and Jack could do nothing but pretend to be a novice sailor.

"Come on, Poseidon!" Jack shouted to the ocean, "do your worst!"

Arte and Henry looked on in numbing fear. The man was crazy! He taunted the God of the Sea and didn't expect retribution?! They shared a glance and began to pray.

The ship was picked up by a wave before it crashed down again. The consequences of his actions weren't lost on him. It had been days since he offered a hint on how to improve their crewman skills and at their suspicious glares he hadn't said anything else.

Now, in control with no one to stop him he couldn't resist. Just the freedom and knowledge that he was dancing with death again, it was foolish but a surge of savage longing couldn't be stopped. This was his opportune moment and it would not be denied.

He rode the storm out and spun the wheel in furious satisfaction when the first beam of moonlight shone through the clouds. The waters of the Caribbean were as unpredictable as the wind at one moment foaming and then at another they lay quietly peaceful.

"How did you do thatm" Arte demanded shakily as he stood from where he and Henry had been crouched.

"It's really quite easy, mate. First you turn the wheel and keep the ship-"

"No! You know what I'm talking about. You're a pirate, aren't you."

"Alright, I confess to being a pirate. Black-hearted cad that I am, you saved my life, I saved yours. We're square."

"We are no such thing," Henry scoffed, "you're a pirate!"

"So we've established. You're bloody rum runners, you're somewhat pirates yourself."

"I beg your pardon," Jack stifled the urge to laugh at the offended look on the men's face.

"Well you _are_ in the business of... relocating, are you not?"

"In a way... but it's not stealing!" Arte said hurriedly.

"Whatever you say, mate. If you'll just drop me off at the next port you'll never hear from me again, savvy?"

"Tortuga'll be soon enough." Henry grumbled, "Just. . . keep the sword sheathed and the pistol away."

* * *

They were the most simple-minded men he'd ever met. Jack didn't know how they could have possibly lasted as long as they did. A flash of white on the horizon caught his attention. His heart raced, no, it couldn't be.

"How fast does she go," Jack asked never taking his eyes away from the ship.

"Why," Arte looked at him suspiciously.

"Just answer the question, man." Jack snapped, now was not the moment for trivialities.

"I don't know, we've never had to outrun ships before. That is why you've asked, right?"

"Yes, and we're going to have to find out now or risk being taken by the East India Trading Company."

"The who? You're kidding, they could take all our cargo," Arte rushed over to Jacks side and stared at the ship in horror.

"More than that if you don't hurry and raise sails," neither of the men protested Jack's leadership with the East India Company on their trail, "all the way, men, we're going to need the wind in order to outrun them." He made sure to use simple terms so they would understand what to do.

"Come on, love," Jack whispered, "I need you to fight today, don't give up on me."

He knew that she was putting in a valiant effort, but it wasn't going to be enough. 'The Falcon' was catching up fast and from the looks of it, they would be blown clear out of the water before one of their cannon's could be loaded. This was the end, Jack supposed it had to come sometime, but at the hands of the military?

"You're under arrest for the unlawful possession of liquors, flying false colors, and evading the British Royal Navy," a voice called out, "surrender all items peacefully and we'll see to it you all receive a fair trial."

"Fair trial," Jack scoffed, The East India Trading Company was not known for their hospitality. No, they branded and killed pirates for sport. The letter of Marque made their work very legal. Little better than pirates they were, Jack thought disdainfully.

"Aye," came the answer, "board and I swear on the crown that you'll be safe." The ship was definitely larger and much better armed, Jack weighed his options. If he boarded their ship what were the odds of him ever leaving it. Slim to none.

"I really don't think so, mates," Jack crossed his arms and glanced at Henry and Arte. Both of them looked terrified and looked to be worse at hand to hand combat than they were at sailing a ship. He couldn't fight a ship of well- trained men by himself, it was time for a new plan.

"We're boarding the ship," a man dressed in very fine clothes and a feathered hat was first to swing up on deck.

"Nice landing, you might, however, want to work on your technique," Jack said critically.

"I offered security, you refused. Wait a minute..." he paused and looked at Jack as if seeing a ghost. "havent I seen you before?"

"I don't know, I've never picked a fight with East India and I know that you've never joined as me crew."

"You're the one that we've been hunting. Didn't you used to sail onboard a pirate ship?"

"Yes! Yes he did! He's a pirate! Take him, leave us," Arte spoke up. Jack didn't bother to look at Arte, he watched the East India agent warily.

"So... a wanted fugitive rapped with nowhere to go," the man smirked, "and since we've the authorization to take care of men such as you, this doesn't bode well for you does it?"

"We're all civilized men, are we not?" Jack interjected, "I'm sure we can come to an honest conclusion to this little excursion."

Jack watched the man unsheathe his cutlass, twenty other men appeared armed on the deck of the ship. He needed to stay calm, form another plan. There was no hope of escaping, the East India Company would open fire on the little ship. She wouldn't be able to stay afloat, there was nowhere for Jack to run. He could attempt to battle his way out of the situation?

What use was that? He'd just managed to regain full mobility, food and rest had gone a long way to his recovery, but he wasn't foolish enough to think any great miracles had occured.

"I guess not, this way's much better anyway," Jack smiled a challenge and the fight began. So much for a plan, he wasn't good with inactivity, impulsivity had always been a fault of his. Let the fates play with their lives as they would.

Seven of the East India Company were injured, three of them were dead and Jack had various injuries of his own, but still he fought determined that if he was going to die he would do so fighting. Unfortunately, East India didn't have the same wish. Jack felt a sharp pain at the back of his skull before everything went black.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

_Authors Note: Thank you for e-mailing me about the East India Trading Company! All of that will get lost of use here. Tomorrow night is the SAG (Screen Actors Guild) Awards on Channel TNT at eight o'clock at night. Make sure you watch because Johnny Depp is going to be there. At least that's what I've heard and in the commercials for it they show his picture. . . I hope so. And it's the last real chance for the actors to win because a week from tomorrow will be the Oscars!_

_Authors Note 2: I would guess Jack to be about twenty-three here. He was fifteen when he left home, sixteen when he meets Giselle for the first time, three years with Vinehbalt makes him 19 and then four years later he's twenty three. Marooned he might be twenty-four, which makes him here the same age._

Jack awoke in near darkness with a throbbing pain at the base of his skull that encompassed his entire body. He remembered fighting, not doing too badly, either, considering that Arte and Henry had stood on deck like fools ...ah yes, now he knew why his head hurt so much.

Someone had clubbed him in order to bring him down. That in itself, was reassuring because he wasn't sure how much longer he would have made it anyway. The East India, for all of their pomp, were experienced swordsmen. They'd have been a match for Jack in full health, starved and sun-mad they'd have taken his dignity in the end.

Now he had to figure out a way to escape the ship. He had several plans for imprisonment on land, but captive in a ship? He was left between managing to slaughter all onboard or escaping into the ocean. His chances of survival weren't high with either choice.

He had no concept of time, there were no windows in the brig of the ship. At least, that's where he thought he was, no other place onboard would be as dark. The East India Trading Company, just the name had the ability to cause him a moment's apprehension. They had caused Vinehbalt fear and Vinehbalt, never one to back down from a challenge, had taken long routes around their hunting grounds.

When even Barbossa took a dislike to them he started to take notice of their power. They couldn't outright kill him unless they made it look like an accident, but then who was to say that he was caught at all. None of the gents in England knew precisely which pirates came onto the ship. There was no record of his capture, they could dispose of him quietly with none the wiser.

Jack stood and felt with nauseating clarity something scurrying off his knee. Jack hated rats almost as much as monkeys. He and Kayrna had made it a point to keep them out of the house. It hadn't been difficult what with their lack of food. With no sustenance for them, what hope did the rats have?

There was nothing else to do but wait Jack found his carefully structured walls crumbling. Surrounded in darkness with only his imagination to stay sane he wondered how she was. Was Dalver treating her well? Had she become a proper English lady, wife to Dalver?

Did she still have the book he'd painstakingly written for her, or had that been discarded with her other childhood posessions? He told himself that it was better that she move on, but he couldn't help but hate the thought of her forgetting him.

Would she hate him for not trying harder to keep her with him? Did she understand he'd tried his best for her? Would she see that their life had been destined to end in a hanging? All thieves were eventually hung, they wouldn't have been children forever. Questions continued to plague him, their answers unknown.

The cell was nine steps wide and seven steps across, there was nothing on the floor to offer any comfort. No straw, though the wooden planks seemed to grow nourishment. Whenever Jake woke a piece of moldy bread and a cup of tepid water had been placed in his cell.

The rats descended on the bread at first, but they had learned to stay away from him. After the thirteenth had been killed and thrown out of the cell not many returned, at least not while he was awake.

The bread helped keep the hunger away, but not by much. Hunger was something he'd accustomed himself to, he associated the feeling with childhood. Jack could feel the slight outline of his ribs when he slept and he knew that if he were kept in the dark much longer he'd emerge partially, if not completely, blind.

Two more days passed and Jack didn't know what to do. Memories came and went one after another, things he hadn't thought of in so long came back in haunting detail.

~ I raise my son to be strong, not weak like you. Face it like a man and no more cowering! ~

~ Jack, youre bleeding! What happened to you?  
~Nothing, I fell on the stairs outside. ~

~ His mothers saddened gaze as she stares out the window when Jack winces every now and then. The heat in summer made perspiration on the cuts hurt, he hated making his mother sad, but the movement was involuntary. ~

~ Getting older, innocence shattered. His mother bleeding, Brahm continuing to beat her. Jack darts in front of him, cursing, screaming, becoming a man at eight years old. ~

~ Jack, dying. Breath coming in harsh pants. Blood across the wooden floor. Kyra with Mother, safe, unable to see Brahm's cruelty. Brahm kicks Jack in the chest twice, the boy rolls into a fetal position protecting his ribs. ~

So many memories, Jack tried to stop them, but the more he fought the worse they seemed to be. He wasn't alone. Jack heard a quick intake of breath that wasn't his own. He was on his feet and staring out into the darkness more animal than man in his ferocity. There was the outline of a girl in the darkness, he could see the light blue of her eyes in the miniscule bit of light that came through the ceiling.

"Ssshhh. . ." she warned her eyes growing larger as she listened for any movement.

"I won't hurt you," Jack promised falling to one knee in exhaustion, "who are you?"

"Eaylin," she whispered, "I didn't mean you any harm."

"I know," he reassured her, she was about as jumpy as a doe and just about as timid, "what were you doing?" Jack focused on conserving his strength, he had to regain control of his sanity. He wasn't going to attack children and women, what kind of monster had he become?

"Bringing you something to eat and drink. The men won't let you have any."

"So you're the one that's been helping me stay alive," Jack felt a wave of gratitude toward the girl. What was she doing on a ship like this? She was obviously terrified of the men, but she was free and therefore not a prisoner. No, Jack thought, there were other ways of being free and yet still held captive.

He wanted to ram his fist into the cell bars, he couldn't help her, he could barely help himself. How did he always find the helpless, the pure, he couldn't save them anymore. He hadn't saved Jeria or Kyra, the darkness in him was growing, he could feel it spread across his soul.

She nodded her head and took a hesitant step closer, "I don't want you to die."

Jack clenched his hands into fists, so innocently spoken, damnit, was she going to be another he'd be forced to watch die?

"Leave me alone, girl, I don't want to drag you down with me. It'll be better for you if you stay away."

She shook her head no this time, "I don't want you to die," she said again.

A creak in the floorboards above them sounded and the girl gasped and hid further in the shadows. "They won't come down here," she chanted quietly to herself, "they won't come down here if you hide."

"Love, I can't do anything for you. You need to get away from here, away from me."

"You can't die, I need you to help me. You need to stay alive."

Jack heard heavy footsteps above them, someone was pacing back and forth above them. Pacing or dancing, Jack timed the steps relieved to note they weren't coming any closer.

"They call you Jack, Jack Sparrow. I've heard of you before. They say you're a pirate, that you've killed men and stolen ships."

"That and more, lass. Now, please, get away from here."

"You need to kill these men, Jack Sparrow. You need to save me, you need to stay alive," her eyes pleaded with him, her tone had been level, empty, but her eyes would haunt him.

He couldn't guess her age, her voice made her sound to be around sixteen, but her eyes... they were the eyes of a woman. Hadn't he seen it before? It shouldn't have come as a shock to him, not anymore. He had to try and save her, she would invade his dreams, torment him if he didn't at least try.

"I'll stay alive, love, now, please, for all that's good in the world, get out of here."

"For now," she whispered. "Eat what I bring you, they'll come for you soon."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

_Authors Note: I don't know about Eaylin yet. What her purpose in this story is other than a beacon of proverbial light for Jack in the darkness. I just figured that if they are going to ignore him and try to starve him to death, there should be ONE kind-hearted person onboard._

"Eaylin," Jack called out softly, he had been hoping for and dreading her appearance.

"Aye," she padded softly to the foot of the cell and passed him a tankard of water and another piece of bread. "I can't stay, they're going to find me."

"No, they never come down here... you told me that last night." Jack didn't want her to leave just yet, if he only spoke to her for a few more minutes it would be enough. He cursed himself for a fool, he was endangering her and yet he wanted her to stay for his sanity?

"You don't sleep anymore," She asked quizzically instead, "you need to sleep or they'll see."

"Okay, one moment there," Jack came to stand closer to her. All of these small hints and tips spoken cryptically, what did she know, would it be of any help to him? "What do you mean if I don't sleep they'll find me?"

Blue eyes regarded him calmly through the dark and finally she sat on the floor with her side resting against the bars. Jack did the same so he would be on the same level and not tower over her as he had been.

"They're going to brand you, it's just a matter of time," she whispered, "they do it to all the men they capture. They must really hate you or be afraid that you'll fight because none of the other prisoners lasted this long."

"Brand?" Jack echoed, he'd seen a man who was branded by the Trading Company, he had a P burned in the center of his forehead. She was damn right he would fight, they'd not bring any branding iron near him without a fight. "How long have I been here?"

"Yes, I can't stop them," he could see her profile, she sported a black eye and looked to be around his age, Jack cursed. "Shhh," she continued, "you've been here about five days now. They're trying to starve you in order to weaken you, they mean to kill you."

"Why warn me and bring me food then," Jack asked hashly, why give him hope when there was none to be found? Why put herself through the same agony?

"Because I don't want you to die," she answered solemnly.

"You've said that before, too. Why not? Why do you want me alive so badly? I can't fight them for long, surely you see its all but hopeless! Damnit, girl, better to kill me now and escape when they dock with my corpse."

"You remind me of someone," she said quietly ignoring him, "he fought, too."

"Who was he," the sadness in her voice was enough to let him know it was a man, someone she loved.

"He tried to get me, but he couldn't. He's alive somewhere out there trying to find me, to rescue me," she wrapped her arms around her legs, "they caught him, he fought them, but unlike him, you weren't able to escape."

"You'll meet with him soon," Jack hadn't missed the way her voice broke toward the end. He understood, her tone, the look in her eyes sometimes, it was as if she'd died. She'd died to keep living.

"I hope so," blue eyes stared at him forcefully,"that's why you can't die. You'll help me, won't you, Jack Sparrow? You look like he did... so angry..."

She trailed off staring into the darkness. Jack reached through the bars and felt a lock of her hair, why was it the women who seemed to suffer so deeply? It was as Giselle had said, this was a man's world... well, he was a man, someone had to help them.

"... when you escape, find him for me? Find him or tell him I'm waiting. His name is Zachary, Zachary Almonte."

"Or I can take you with me," Jack added, "you don't think I'd leave you here by yourself, did you?"

"If it comes down to escape, you won't be able to bring me with you," she said simply, "don't make a promise you can't keep. It's not so bad here for me, they don't hurt me. I cook and keep their rooms cleaned. I get meals and they leave me alone most of the time."

"I don't believe you," Jack turned her face and lightly stroked her cheek.

"And what of it? It was my own fault, they were drinking, I didn't stay out of their way. I didn't hide. I should have hidden."

"And do they do that often? Drink too much?" That was the only way so far he could make his escape.

"Usually right before we set port. Next place we stop is Port Royale. . . I think they want to turn you over to the Commodore to watch you hang. They're going to kill you, Jack Sparrow, unless you find a way to escape."

"Do they give you a set of keys? How did you get in here?"

"I told you, I hide," she hugged her knees closer to her chest, "they wouldn't give me a key."

"Then do you have a pin or something? A small dagger, perhaps, that you can take unbeknownst to them?" Jack needed more, they had taken his weapons, he needed something with which to defend himself. He couldn't face the East India Trading Company unarmed.

"I don't know. . . I might be able to get a dagger from above decks, but not until tomorrow."

"No rush, love. Stay hidden, don't risk your life for mine,"

"Too late," she smiled sadly, "but I'm good at hiding."

Eaylin stood and seemed to melt into the shadows, he didn't hear her leave. Jack gripped the bars of his cell and felt a gash on his knuckles open. He had to get them out of here, he needed to think of something, what could he do?

The darkness was back whispering to him, threatning failure. Jack forced it away growling. The sound startled him, burned, hatred deep and dark was unfurling inside him. Jack sighed, the darkness had always been inside of him, he might as well embrace it now rather than fight it later.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_Authors Note: JOHNNY DEPP WON FOR BEST ACTOR AT THE S.A.G AWARDS!! BRING ON THE OSCARS!!! HELL YEA!_

"Wake up, you." The cell door creaked open and hands reached for him in the dark. He fought against the vague shadows and felt his fist collide with something solid. He felt a moments satisfaction, but a returning blow made nausea curl in his stomach.

They dragged him unmercifully into the bright sunshine. He'd closed his eyes against the hash glare of the sun, but opening them slowly was agony. The East India agents laughed at his disorientation, they noted how he swayed gently on his feet. The pirate was no longer a threat to them.

"Now you'll get your due, pirate," one of them snarled, kicking the back of Jack's leg to bring him down. They weren't prepared when Jack pivoted and fell into a fighting stance. Jack was prepared to fight, some of the weakness had been an act, it worried him that it hadn't been more difficult to maintain the facade. His plan, get Eaylin, escape the ship... the plan died when one of the agents dragged her forward.

"Jack Sparrow, I've been hearing stories about you," Jack took the man to be Captain. He wore a black-feathered hat, no uniform. His clothes exuded wealth and station, there was a polished silver rapier at his waist.

"Have you now... that's interesting." Jack replied warily outnumbered but undaunted.

"No, what I find interesting is that you don't harm women. A gentleman pirate, eh?"

"Don't those words cause a contradiction in the mind," Jack inquired moving in ever-widening circles not stopping until his back was to the wall.

"Contradictory, but true, I think."

Eaylin was shoved forward so roughly she fell to a heap on the deck. Eaylin wasn't a child, her hair was tied back modestly, her dress was too large for her, tattered in places it had been mended many times. Her eyes seemed a deeper shade of blue in the sun, Jack could see that her hands were red and scarred. She was so small, tiny compared to the men, how had she gotten involved with brutes such as they?

Eaylin refused to meet Jack's eyes, it was as she said. She wouldn't force him to anything heroic, he wouldn't betray her by admitting he recognized her.

"Consider this a guarantee of compliance," the Captain grinned evilly, "if you try for a weapon or attempt escape, the girl here dies."

"What's your name," Jack inquired.

"Raynard Crasthon," he paused, "bring the iron."

Jack saw the blade of a sword come to rest against Eaylin's throat. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she still didn't plea for Jack's help.

The tip of the iron was fashioned in the shape of a 'P', the tip glowed red from the intensity of the fire it was kept in. Jack's first reaction was to take a step backwards, he saw the sword press cruelly against her throat, he wouldn't retreat and take the coward's path.

Raynard stepped forward to pull the sleeve of Jack's shirt higher on his arm. Jack had a moment to brace himself, to grit his teeth against the inevitable agony. The acrid smell of burning flesh circulated through the air, when they finally let him go Jack fell to one knee on the deck.

He panted for breath refusing to cry out in pain. He hadn't felt the brand, his arm had gone numb, he knew it was deceptive the cold that had invaded. Once the brand had been removed he felt the searing, blinding, oblitering pain set in. He saw Eaylin through a haze, she cried quietly on the ground trying to be unobtrusive as possible.

His arm hurt, an excruciating, seemingly unbearable hurt that threatened to tear his mind apart once and for all. He was weak from lack of sustenance, loss of blood, and now his sight blurred as the deck came and went through darkness.

"You fight for what you can't win. Why?"

"Because... I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

"You'll never fight again," they weren't through yet. His body jerked as he sank into the blessed darkness, they had done something to his arm. He struggled to stay awake, not to give in, when the men moved he saw what they'd done. A jagged cut ran from his elbow to his upper wrist. The bastards had maliciously torn muscle and sinew in their fervor. Jack let unconsciouness take over, he wouldn't be able to fight them.

They had flayed his arm open nearly to the bone. If the wound healed, which was unlikely, he'd never be able to wield a sword or gun with any dexterity. They had ruined him and he almost wished for death as he allowed himself to collapse on the deck.

* * *

He stayed on the edge of delirium for the next couple of days barely able to sense Eaylin's presence as she tended the wounds.

"You're awake," she said surprised to see his eyes clear and focused once again.

"Am I," he replied hoarsely, "what are you doing?"

"Trying to save your arm," she finished wrapping salve in another black piece of cloth.

Jack braced expecting the familiar agony to burn its way through his arm, down his body. To his surprise Eaylin's remedy had soothed the hurt. He could take a deep breath without feeling sick or having the room spin wildly.

"I used to know a physician. They missed the main muscle, you're arm'll be stiff sometimes, but so long as you take care it'll be fine." Eaylin strove to give him hope. Telling him that he'd lost a lot of blood, that if he tried to fight now he might not be able to lift a sword... he needed words of encouragement, not despair.

It had been a near-miss for the first day she'd not been able to get below decks. When she crept downstairs the second night there were little white worms gathering near the congealed blood of the wound. Eaylin had allowed them to continue their work. The worms would eat away some of the dead flesh, the bacteria that they might carry seemed like a lesser evil compared to the good they were doing.

She had stolen various herbs and a black-tattered shirt from around the ship, using them she mixed a potion to numb and heal the wound. The burn would be there forever, there was nothing she could do for that.

In a few weeks he'd have partial if not full use of his arm. In time he would be able to sword-fight with practice, although certain maneuvers would be difficult at first. What worried her the most was the frequency with which he had dreamed. He stared through sightless cloudy eyes for the second day and called out various names as if he was drowning.

Once he had called her Jeria and asked that she forgive him. He snarled rage at someone he called Brahm and it was then that he flinched and dream-fought. One name that he spoke brought up a vestige of remembrance the name Kayrna. However, try as she might, she couldn't recall why exactly it was familiar.

Eaylin tried everything she could to make sure that he slept peacefully. He wouldn't have been the first to give in to the dreams and never return to the fully conscious state. It had been awhile since she'd used the doctoring skills she learned that long time ago, but they returned as she worked.

She wondered why'd he continued to fought, he was either very brave or very foolish. Even as they'd dragged him back into the cell he had managed to clip one of them on the cheek with his good arm. She doubted if he remembered doing so, but his face wouldn't be painfully bruised if he'd refrained.

Letting him doze back off she knew that they would set port in another few days. When that happened she would have to get him healthy or at least moving. There was a chance they'd be able to hang him with him believing it to be a hallucination.

It was the first time that anything made her care again. The days had passed by, bleak horizon by endless night. Now, it was as if she had a reason to live again and the thought of finding the man she loved again was restored. Jack had given her hope and for that she would do whatever she could to save him.

_Authors Note 2: And I think I've accounted for all of his wounds so far, right? The two bullet shots, the pirate brand, and then the wicked long scar on his left arm. That was all he showed to Elizabeth on the island. . . now I have to start on the tattoos. muhaha_


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

_Authors Note: There could be a slight problem in the aging process. Because Jack was fifteen when the story started, six years aboard 'The Black Pearl', then ten years that he adventures through the rest until it's POTC. So that makes him twenty-one right now and then thirty one when POTC starts. Is that about right?_

Things stayed relatively quiet, the silence only broken by Eaylin's night visits and slight twinges of pain from his arm. He'd tried to exercise his arm by pretending he had a sword. He parried, countered and was disgusted when his arm burned and protested the imaginary motions. How would he be able to fight with a real one if he couldn't make the motions without the weight of one?

It was true that he could fight with either left or right hand, but in a fight to the death he would much prefer to be defending himself with his dominant hand. The odds were already against their favor and tipping them even further. . . it was already a huge gamble that both of them escape alive.

The day would come when Eaylin would bring the keys and they'd escape into the Port. He would have to wield a sword properly by then or they'd have no chance.

They were about half a day from the drunken revelry that occurred whenever docking day was near. She made sure to stay out of sight. The men usually forgot about her. She made sure they had rum, food, and then hid in the shadows until she noticed the supplies running low. They only brought her name up when they planned to use her for barter or compliance.

She hated it! Hated how they used her to cause pain on others. Jack would never have allowed them to brand him. They'd forced him to surrender by threatening her life. He really did remind her of Zachary. It was useless to think of things that might never happen. In the long days that followed their escape she heard his screamed promise that he would come back for her.

At eighteen years old she didn't know whether or not he was still alive. She hoped so, the thought that he would take her off this cursed ship had been the only thing that kept her going through the four years of captivity.

It had been a mistake of hers, the months following Zach's escape would haunt her for as long as she lived. She had bartered with them for her life. Eaylin had proven to them that she could cook and sew clothes and rigging together again, they came to the conclusion that she was a precious commodity not to be wasted and so she was turned into the cook and residential maid.

The few times that she'd chanced escape they brought her back and she played dumb telling them that all she wanted were a few new ingredients. They believed her, thinking of her as their property, but she hadn't had another chance. They made her provide them with a list of cooking supplies she'd need and when they returned from their day of revelry they gave her what she'd asked for.

They were only abusive toward her when they had to much drink in their blood. The little show of pushing her around was only done for the prisoner's sake. God forbid a woman actually have a place aboard a privateer's ship. While things weren't bad, they never gave her enough to eat and the thought of freedom had been erased from her memory.

Jack was captured and all of the hopes and dreams came back. She'd never met anyone with such willpower to see things done, neither had she realized the depth to his humor. Bruised, bleeding, and on the brink of death he still made jokes over the situation. 'Well at least the rats will be fed,' he'd said once to her dismay.

It was almost time and the kegs of rum were already being brought up on deck. They'd dock, then drink the night away, come morning they'd sleep till noon and then go gallivanting off to town whoring and whatever else they did. Two men would stay onboard to make sure she didn't escape and to watch the ship.

The only trouble they might encounter is if Raynard were there to sound an alarm. They generally didn't like to involve the Navy in business, but he wouldn't hesitate to protect what was his. That couldn't happen, Jack was in no condition to fight even if he insisted he could.

She would wait until nightfall and try to steal a small dagger as Jack had requested. They would be able to pick the lock and then once everyone was drunk, they would be able to make their escape. In order to force their cooperation she might add a little potion of her own to the rum tanks. It wouldn't be too hard to mix a concoction that would render them unconscious for hours. If she remembered the potion correctly they would be incapacitated for another hour or so.

She hurried to the kitchens to start on the mixture, but as she went she saw Raynard open the trapdoor to go below decks. Her heart froze in fear as she wondered if Jack were awake enough to take the black cloth away from his wound. All would be lost if Raynard saw it, he would know exactly who helped him and he might even order her beaten if he were mad enough.

Jack was smart, he would be able to sense that it was Raynard and not she who walked down the corridor. He would have to, she put her faith in him as her heart beat loud enough for the entire ship to hear.

As the trap door opened Jack shielded his eyes from the bright light. It wasn't Eaylin, she wouldn't be so obvious and the footsteps were heavy on the wooden planks. Jack quickly tore off the black fabric from his arm wincing as it caught some of the wound along with it. He threw it into one of the shadowed corners.

He then hurriedly lay down in a heap on the floor and put his arm over his eyes. The footsteps stopped in front of his cell and Jack refrained from uncovering his eyes to be on alert in case of attack. The cell door didn't open and he forced himself to remain still and calm.

"You, pirate," Raynard snarled, he wanted to see whether or not their prisoner was dead yet. It would be a miracle if he still lived, but he wouldn't be surprised. Some of them fought to live through anything.

"Water..." Jack made his voice gravelly and barely a whisper. The trick was to get Raynard out of the cell, but also to guarantee that he wouldn't be back.

"So you _are_ still alive. 's a pity," Raynard smirked, the pirate was alive, but just barely.

"I need... water." Jack rasped again, he even made a move as if to sit up, but then fell back onto the floor in a series of rasping coughs.

"I don't give aid to pirates, no mercy you'll find from me," he spit upon the floor near to where Jack was sprawled and smiled humorlessly. "In two days I'll sell you over to the Navy. It's a hanging then, understand? You might as well just give up now."

Jack didn't dare uncover his eyes now because he knew there would be rage and rebellion echoed in them, not the sick, dying man that Raynard expected to see. He was trembling, but not from hunger or thirst. He was sick of people wanting him to fail and thinking him weak. He was Jack Sparrow, he made his own rules and damn those who wanted to bring him down.

"Good-bye, Sparrow. Just give up now, the hangman won't be so merciful," he laughed callously and exited the brig. In one, two days at most the pirate would be dead and just another carcass among the many that lined the prisons cemetery.

Jack sprang to his feet as soon as the door shut. Not by all the fires of hell would the hangman get him, not this time at least. Mercy, it was a term that he didn't know anymore. Should Raynard ever meet the end of his sword, mercy wasn't something that would be shown.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

_Authors note: I am so sorry that I haven't updated in so long. We've had standardized tests in school: the HSPA. That and studying for the SAT's so, unfortunately, while I've planned out what's going to happen, I haven't been able to type it up. _

_Authors note 2: But Secret Window comes out in only 7 days now. Written by Stephen King, the movie is based on that novella and stars Johnny Depp as Mort Rainey, a writer who wrote a story 'Secret Window' a while ago. Now he's working on another story but he too suffers from writers block and you know how it goes. Trying anything and everything to just GET A NEW IDEA! Lol._

Escape was in progress, the kegs were infiltrated with her potion and she made sure it worked. She put a little more than regular dosage to make sure that it would be strong enough to take down a whole crew of men. She would have killed them all, but killing a whole crew belonging to the East India Company might get them in more trouble than it would be worth.

Jack and Eaylin kept close to the sides of the ship. Staying away from the rail they did everything they could to stay out of sight. Jack wanted more than anything to have a chance meeting with Raynard, but from the look of the men's bodies strewn around the deck it wasn't likely.

Jack wondered why Ealin hadn't made her escape before if she had the capability to debilititate the men as she had. He supposed her safety was part of it, but it seemed suspicious to him.

Every step he took was an effort. It took a lot of his willpower just to stay upright and not pass out on the deck. Balance wasn't hard to establish, the ship worked with him rather than against him, but his muscles felt so weak he wasn't sure how much further he could go.

Eaylin looked back every now and then to see how progress was going. They had all the time in the world now, the crew would be asleep for the next twelve hours, but Jack didn't look as if he would make it past one. He was wavering and holding onto the rail as if his life depended on it. There was a bright glare to his eyes that reassured her. As long as he kept his determination they had a chance.

The bow of the ship was only a few steps away, the gangplank lowered onto the fresh clean shore of the Caribbean. She wasn't quite sure where they were docked, but anywhere was better than being locked inside the kitchen until mealtimes, and she was sure that Jack much preferred this to the cell.

"You know-"Jack grabbed one of the men's swords, "we might have trouble after all."

"Wha-?" she turned and Jack darted in to grab her in case she fainted. Due to her paling complexion it was definitely a worry.

"I knew that you would try something like this. After your last trick I wondered whether or not you'd try to help the pirate. Turns out that you have and now it'll be the end of you both," Raynard smiled callously. The last time Eaylin had tried to escape they'd had a near brush with the Navy.

That had been at Port Royale and the Commodore there, accompanied by a younger lieutenant wanted to check the hold of his ship for pilfered goods. Thanks to the quick thinking of his crew none of it was found, but the girl had proven more trouble than she was worth.

Now on the banks of Tortuga there was no chance of meeting a military man and definitely no chance for them to hide. Eaylin had been a choice catch. Only the years of defiance and menial labor she'd performed marred her slim figure and beauty. Raynard, at the time, had a woman and she wouldn't have tolerated another woman around.

It wasn't like him to go by a woman's decision, but when that woman was one of the most talented whores around, he wasn't about to argue. Now she was gone and that left him with no source of amusement. Eaylin would have sufficed, but now it was unfortunate but she was to go as well.

It was disappointing how fast they'd lost his interest, but nothing seemed to hold his attention anymore. They always seemed to die off early leaving him with no replacements and a long period of time to contend with. Now there would be a sword fight with an injured pirate, not much sport there, either.

"How does it feel now?" Raynard leered, "knowing this will result in death? It's failure either way, Sparrow."

"Yes, but as you so clearly put it, I'll die a pirate," he pushed Eaylin toward the safety of the inner rail and assumed a familiar fighting stance. Adrenaline gave him the energy to unsheathe his dagger and wield the sword in his left hand. The main task now was to get Eaylin to safety and off the ship. With Raynard distracted she would have easy escape.

"And you thought you could escape my notice with a simple sleeping potion." Raynard sneered, his sword flashed in the light.

"Get out of here, now!" Jack turned his head toward her in time to see her run to the gangplank. The fight would commence, Raynard took the opportunity to attack for first blood.

Steel met steel, the reverberation skittered up Jack's arm and threatened his hold on the sword.

"Ready to die," Raynard put all his strength behind the blows to try and force Jack to the ground.

"Are you?" Jack retreated a few steps to put some space between them. Just as he'd planned Raynard followed and his plan was set into motion. Jack subtly maneuvered his opponent away from the gangplank.

He ignored the bite of fire as Raynard's sword cut into his skin again and again, it didn't matter now. There would be plenty of time to heal once he could get away.

Raynard knew victory was almost his, he could smell the desperation emanating from Jack and knew the pirate would get what he deserved at last. One sword thrust and he almost got Jack's eye. Had it not been for Jack's instincts and years of working on rigging he would have been blinded by that last swing.

"You missed," Jack panted using Raynard's balance against him. He threw his dagger as Raynard stumbled backwards. Raynard had fallen against one of the ship's pillars. Jacks dagger embedded itself in his shoulder and into the wood.

Raynard cried out in both pain and blood-lust, the dagger sliced through skin and one of his bones. Jack wiped perspiration from his forehead smiling grimly. He knew the dagger wouldn't be easily dislodged.

"But I didn't," Jack blinked blood out of his eyes, "ta."

Leaving Raynard behind cursing his name, Jack nearly fell down the gangplank in his haste to escape. He could feel every new injury they throbbed in time to his heartbeat. Jack knew they weren't near Port Royale, the Navy wouldn't allow the people to lay around drunk. Whores peddled their wares openly, he could hear men dying, singing, partaking in pleasure. No, this wasn't Port Royale.

"Eaylin," he called, "where are you!?"

Only the ocean's waves crashing together answered him. He took a deep breath of the salt scented breeze and hung his head in resignation. She was safe somewhere and he could find her when the tides changed again. A burst of wind touched his back and forced him to move on from there.

He broke into a run hoping that the little bit of adrenaline would last him long enough to find safe harbor at least for the night. He wandered around the streets matching stare for stare with murderers, avoiding the gazes of harlots that lined the streets with ease. He managed to keep a somewhat steady pace and knowledge of his relative location so he wouldn't end up walking in circles.

There was a pub, it was concealed from the street and had a corner that protected it even more. Jack had stayed off the streets using the winding paths behind buildings. He stuck to the shadows easily falling back into the skills he'd needed as a pick-pocket.

"I told you I don't know who that is," Jack heard a woman say. There were traces of fear in her voice and he halted at the corner to catch his breath.

"'m not b'lieving you, girl." Jack's head came up as if he caught sight of his prey again. Snarling low in his throat he wondered how Raynard had gotten free. How long had he been walking? It seemed like hours, but as all things do, it could have been just a few minutes. Blast and damn! He should have killed him right off.

"Let me go," he heard a stinging slap, a grunt of pain, and then he heard the woman take a sharp intake of breath.

"Once more. Do y'know of a man named Jack Sparrow? T'ink caref'lly 'fore 's your life forfeit." Raynard's shoulder throbbed with the fire's of hell and this wench seemed as if she'd rather take a piece out of him than be meek and smart as she should be. He raised his fist to teach her a lesson when. . .

"Now that's not very nice," Jack made his voice sound strong as he leaned against the pub's wall. The woman who had hit Raynard was very pretty. She was endowed with a slim waist, long legs, dark lashes shielding dark brown eyes that spit fire at Raynard. A woman with spirit, Jack found himself grinning though he knew not why.

"You," Raynard growled turning the sword to level at Jack's chest. Jack noticed blood flowing freely from the shoulder wound. Somehow he'd managed to pull the dagger out cleanly so that most of the muscle would heal properly. . . if he were given the chance to live.

"Me," Jack replied unsheathing his own sword. "Now let the lass free and finish what you started."

"You're the one who ran away," Raynard sniped callously.

"I'm back aren't I?" Jack's eyes darkened as he faced his opponent, "to the death this time."

"To the death," Raynard smiled evilly. Sparrow was in for a nasty surprise should his flesh meet with the blade of this sword. No mistakes this time.

Jack took a deep breath and gathered his strength. It was too soon for another all-out, knock-down fight, but he didn't seem to have any other choice. Raynard was a threat that needed to be dealt with. Jack would rather face him now, alone, than with the East India crew at his back.

Fight or die, there was nowhere to run, nothing else to do. Jack could taste the hatred and rage as if it they were tangible things. It was time to end this once and for all.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

_Authors Note: I LOVE being free from writer's block! Four days since my last chapter and now I can't type fast enough to make up for all of them. Eesh. I'm gonna stop babbling now and get on with the story. ;D_

Anamaria stood forgotten as the two men circled one another warily. The stakes had changed, it was live or die. One would survive and the other would go on to be judged by whatever deity ruled the earth.

Jack made first move this time and scored a thin slice of crimson as his sword drew a line across Raynard's chest. So close a hit, but then not quite close enough and, therefore, didn't count for anything.

So the two knew one another, Ana watched the fight from the shadows. She didn't know why Jack, was that what he'd been called, stepped in to fight. The dagger hidden in her skirts would have sufficed properly and she could well take care of herself. It had been a long time since anyone had helped her and, judging the man's attire, she certainly hadn't thought a pirate would step up to the task.

His clothes were reason enough, but he moved lithely though he sported a good many injuries. Every now and then she saw him grin mischievously as if the thought of death didn't phase him in the least. Bleeding from cuts on his chest, arms, and sides he still had the sense of mind to smile at the challenge faced him.

He was definitely like no one she'd ever seen before. When the end came she would rather he emerge the victor than the man who had threatened her. Of course, who wouldn't?

Fights were nothing to her, she worked as a barmaid in the tavern. A fight broke out at least twice a night and it was rare to escape the night without some sort of mishap. The main key was to decide which ones were the deadly ones and which were for sport. The one she was watching now was definitely not in jest.

Jack fell to one knee and rolled before the sword was brought down hard across his back. Having dodged it he was again on his feet and, brandishing his own weapon, cut his opponent across the cheek.

"Better than last time eh, Raynard," Jack panted. Blood dropped from Jack's arm, when the sleeve was pushed up Ana saw why.

The worst injury she'd ever seen was right before her eyes. Muscle was torn nearly down through the layers of skin to the bone. New flesh was taking over, but it would be a long while before it would be fully healed.

She thought he fought left handed, but then he switched the sword to his injured arm and she wondered why. He most certainly wouldn't be able to fight for long, not with the blood that even now ran down from the gash to drop onto the ground at their feet.

Raynard snarled, his eyes flashed dangerously, and then, horribly, Jack's sword blade broke. Jack stared at it in horror as Raynard aimed a blow at his neck.

"Watch out," Annamaria screamed hoarsely, her throat seemed to close as Raynard laughed.

Jack ducked and instead fell heavily to his side, throwing the sword's hilt away looking subtly around for another weapon. He had a pistol linked in the loop of his pants, Ana wondered why he didn't use it now. Reaching into the top of his boot he withdrew a dagger.

It seemed hopeless, Jack against a sword and a dagger with naught but one dagger for his own protection. Ana waited until things seemed to slow before offering her help.

"Jack," he looked toward her as Raynard stared at her in hatred. She threw him her weapon trying to even the odds a little.

"You're next, wench," Raynard yelled as Jack launched a new attack.

"You really..." Jack said while stabbing at Raynard's chest again, "...should watch how..." another line of red appeared on Raynard's shirt, "...you speak to the ladies, savvy?"

Raynard bellowed in rage and swung heavily with all his might towards Jack. Jack, instead of retreating as he ought to darted forward and finally buried the dagger in Raynard's heart. The sword fell to the ground and Jack used the second dagger to cruelly thrust upward into Raynard's stomach.

Jack checked the man's pulse satisfied to know Raynard was dead. Another demon banished, but the satisfaction didn't last long.

Only Ana noticed his ragged breathing and blood flowing heavily from a multitude of injuries. Jack seemed far away from here, his eyes were so dark they appeared black and he had red streaks on his hands from where the daggers dug into his flesh. He was oblivious to all of it, not wincing when he fell to the ground on his knees.

He cursed himself for his weakness. Looking at the darkening sky he snorted at the thought of a pirate getting away with killing a Captain of the East India Trading Company. Looking at the body he remembered the woman who'd helped him during the fight.

She stood braced against the wall staring back at him as if not quite sure what to do. He couldn't help her out with that, and even though he hated this position of servitude, he lacked the strength to do anything other than breathe.

Annamaria clasped her hands together, not in all the years of working as a barmaid had she ever been faced with something like this. He looked like his world was crumbling around him and there was no light in the darkness. She wanted to do something for him, but what could she offer?

Feeling like an oaf she remembered exactly what her profession was. When men were injured what did they want? A bottle of rum and a room alone for the night. At least most of them wanted a room alone, some of them were dolts and didn't have the sense to leave well enough alone.

"Jack," she called trying to draw him out of his inner reverie. "You need to get those wounds attended to."

"Hmmm..." his eyes flickered and she realized that they were actually a light golden-brown. "... rum, if you have any? Or water?"

She predicted it right, rum would dull the pan and hopefully allow his mind rest for the night. Annamaria crossed the short distance between them and saw Jack's eyes darken again as he looked up at her.

"You hurt me and I'll put a dagger in your belly," Anamaria knelt down next to him and stared into his eyes. The man was boiling with fever, his eyes were bright with it, sweat covered his brow and mixed with blood that ran from a wound near his eye.

"... not going to hurt you, lass," Jack Sparrow was back and ready to put another chapter of his life behind him. There had been Jack Elstran, now the reckless pirate would be put to rest. What did that leave him with? He didn't know yet, but he was sure to find out soon enough.

Though his muscles trembled he surged to his feet and walked over to where Raynard lay. He pulled both daggers out of the body and held them in the palm of his hand.

"Wait here," she asked making up her mind. At his acquiescent nod she hurried inside and grabbed both bottle of rum and a pitcher of water. Going back out the door she took a few soft towels from the rough-hewn wooden counter. Dipping them in water she added a few drops of aloe from a plant her mother used to keep.

"You came back," he stared at her in surprised confusion.

"Hold out your arm."

"I'm fine," he objected. Fever had taken him in her thrall. Jack's mind spun, he was back in London, Anette came to mind. She was a woman and he didn't want to get blood all over her clothes.

Annamaria raised an eyebrow and gently lifted his arm level to her own biting her lip at the damage. Someone had tended to this, the wound was healing better than she would have imagined. The blood was coming from the very center of the wound where part of the scab had peeled off.

"This might sting a little," she worked as fast as she could. Tying the cloth securely around his arm she grimaced as the white material turned red instantly.

"No worries, love," he laughed at the sensation of reality ebbing and flowing around him. He felt weightless, as if he could fly.

"No worries?" Annamaria took another of the towels and dipped it into the water pitcher, "you're going to bleed to death!"

"There are worse ways to die." Jack grinned and Annamaria had the strongest urge to smack him and help get sense back to his mind. All reason had obviously left him.

"Well, you're not going to die outside of my bar," she untied the towel and let it drop to the ground. Jack laughed again taking the towel from her, he was back on the island, white sand, oceanic view. He tied the towel as he had then using his good arm and his teeth.

"Here's your rum," she held out the bottle and watched as his expression warmed. He uncorked it and drank deeply.

"'s good liquor."

"O'course! What kind of tavern do you think I run?" Annamaria smiled.

"The best," he took another deep drink and sighed contentedly. There was entire cache here and the rest of his life to drink it dry.

"I have to get rid of the last few customers, then I'll finish cleaning the rest of your wounds," she left the towels near him and also the pitcher of water.

"Wait," he handed the dagger to her, it was dripping water but it was clean. That wasn't exactly what she wanted him to use the water for, but with the look on his face she simply tucked it back in her skirts. "I still don't know your name, love."

This was a good dream, rum and a pretty woman by his side, he couldnt ask for more.

"Anamaria," she said over her shoulder. "I'll only be a few moments. If you wait I'll have another bottle of rum for you."

"Very well, thank you then, Anamaria," he leaned against the wall with his legs slightly bent and his head back against the wood. His eyes closed and she made sure to close the door softly so she wouldn't break his reverie. She heard him humming a song as she walked away.

What was she going to do? She might be able to save his body, but if his mind broke... it was just a fever, she told herself, all men were daft with fever riding them. He might not even be there when she returned.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

_Authors Note: Special thanks to AhiFlame- whose reviewed nigh every chapter unfailingly. Thank you! And then definitely to Jackfan2 who has convinced me to keep writing this story and hasn't ever failed to give me advice and help me keep going. Love ya Jackfan2!!! But really, had it not been for you people who review I think I might have stopped writing this when I had writers block because it didn't seem to be going anywhere. Now it has a purpose again so thank you all so much.. _

"Rob, you really need to go now," Annamaria said again, "'s closing time."

"Aww. . . one more drink, Ana?" he looked up at her through bloodshot eyes. From the day his wife died, he'd been inconsolable. He visited the tavern at least once a day and stayed then until his thoughts were numbed enough for him to rest.

"Go home, Rob," she helped him stand, "we'll be open same time tomorrow."

"Same time," he mumbled as he staggered to the door, "promise?"

"Yes, g'night," she sighed as the door slammed finally behind him. When his mourning time was done he would go back to being the arrogant, tough, unflappable man she knew he could be. Until then, he was lost without Katy and he wasn't ashamed to show it.

He'd challenged people to duels, as a way to try and end his life as fast as possible, but when that didn't work he turned to drink. She didn't pity him, he would hate her for it, and she knew that eventually he'd realize that this way of life was hopeless.

Putting together the things she'd need near the bed she went outside to see if Jack was still there. He was, the empty rum bottle against the wall in his hand and his eyes were still closed. He was paler than he'd been before and his legs trembled slightly though he didn't seem to notice.

At times like these she really wished her mother was alive to help her. The bar was her aunts, but only Ana knew how to properly take care of it. Aunt Christine took one look at the inside, curled her nose at the smell of liquor, then tried to have Ana put into foster care.

Friends of her mother's had objected, violently, and Christine let the matter drop. Now, with a pirate to heal and a body to get rid of before morning she really wished her mother was here to give her advice.

"What the--" the body was gone and Jack was standing propped against the ball's wall as he'd been before the fight.

"No worries, aye," he grinned weakly and shoved off from the wall to stand straight.

He'd broken free of his hallucinations, one look at Raynard brought his memory back.

"Come on, you'll be better soon enough," she put his arm around her waist for support and Jack allowed himself to relax the mental barriers a little. Anamaria smelled like clean soap, good rum, and the sweet scent of flowers. Always the flowers...

Raynard was taken care of, he'd paid a man to take the body and see that it was gotten rid of. The man he'd paid had a sinister air around him, Jack knew that such a request wasn't new to him. Jack had stripped Raynard of any emblems that would betray his station. He'd given the effects to various people he'd passed on the way back to the tavern.

Tortuga was definitely a new experience, he'd seen the same change purse relocated three times. Once from a little boy, an older boy pickpocketed that, and then an even older girl stole it from him. Sailors rough from the sea chased willing women, harlots sold their wares cheap and easy, farmers herded their animals unchecked through the streets.

"Come on, just another couple of steps and you'll be able to rest."

It was dark inside the tavern, only a few lamps lit the way to her room. Pictures of ships and the ocean hung on the walls. Chairs and tables were stacked neatly together, and although a few of the chairs were missing rungs, and the tables were grooved with age, it looked exactly as a bar should.

The floors were kept clean, as clean as she could get them, at any rate. She'd long ago given up cleaning up after every spill. Instead, she waited until the customers were gone before wiping up the spilled liquor and clearing the tables.

Her bar had the reputation of being one of the best. Good rum, good service and it would stay that way. The people of Tortuga might be known as crass and the island known as one of depravity, but they all enjoyed their fun and knew when not to cross the line when in her tavern.

"Stairs, can you walk the stairs," Ana asked. She mentally grinned at the look he gave her, it was one of exasperated pride.

Bearing most of his weight they got to the top without trouble. Down the hall and to the last locked room, that's where her quarters were. While she sometimes rented out space to travelers, most of these rooms stayed locked and barred. None of the customers came up here, she made sure of that. This was where she lived and she liked to keep business away from personal space.

"Right through here," she almost ran into his back when he stopped short.

"This is where you sleep," he asked looking around at the neatly kept room. White sheets, dark blue bedspread, a mirror hanging from the open bureau. . . it was overly feminine and had the same smell of flowers that he had detected on her.

"Yes..." she wasn't sure where his train of thought was taking him.

"Can't. I'm going to drip blood all over your floor," he was loathe to destroy her room, so many lives he'd taken and he wouldn't be the one to smear blood all over the white sheets and simplicity of her life.

"Well you're going to anyway if you don't sit down," she gently pushed him into a chair at the table where everything she'd gotten before was now. "Don't worry about it, this room's been through worse."

Ana revised her opinion of the pirate, his manners labelled him gentry, but no royalty she knew went around dressed as a bucaneer. Nor did she remember them to engage in duels to the death.

He took the offered rum bottle and followed her instruction to put the pirate branded arm palm down on the table. Whatever she was about to do he wouldn't be offering any objections. He was already so indebted to her, two bottles of rum given freely, and she was helping him. His mother had been right, he found help in the darkest of times.

"Do you feel this," she asked as she touched the outside of the brand where broken skin separated from the newly growing skin.

"No," he said and as he curiously into her eyes.

She worked quickly and methodically working at one side of the burn before going to another side. It was a brand of a pirate, the 'P' said that as clearly as if they'd spelled it out.

"How? How did they catch you," she asked to dispel the silence.

"I wasn't smart enough," he replied taking another drink from the half-empty rum bottle.

"I don't believe you. You're a pirate, aren't you, there's bound to be a story behind that."

"Everyone has a story," Jack sighed.

"What's yours," she insisted.

"My crew held a mutiny against me, they left me for dead on a godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere with a cache of rum hidden beneath the sand. I was able to barter passage when the rumrunners came to collect. Branded, I escaped a few days later and here I am."

"And that's all of it," she asked disbelievingly. It was a far-fetched story, but there was an air of truth to his words despite the luck it would have taken him to survive through such circumstances.

"That about concludes my story. Lying drunk on a beach with rum, bartering passage off only to be captured again by the terror of the sea. Funny ol' world innit?"

His speech was slurring slightly, but there was still alertness to his eyes. She continued to work until her eyes stung and her fingers cramped. She tried not to hurt him but every now and then his hand would close on the bottle and he would drink deeply to hide the gasp of pain that would have escaped his lungs.

"What's your story," Jack said wanting to know. "how old are you, love?"

"Nineteen," she said hiding a yawn, "I work the bar, my mother died a few years ago and left it to me. I've always lived in Tortuga, but you know what?"

Ana felt his cavalier mood spreading to her, why not talk to him truthfully? With the amount of rum he'd ingested, he wouldn't remember their conversation come morning.

Jack regarded her intently, "I'm listenin', Ana."

"I've always wanted to do what you do now."

"Get patched up by a beautiful woman? 's interesting."

"No..." she laughed, "be a pirate. Or at least sail the ocean and travel to everywhere and anywhere. Get away from all of this and make it on my own. Like my father did." That last sentence was said so low that Jack wondered if he heard correctly.

He understood how she felt exactly, the look in her eyes matched his yearning to be back aboard the Pearl with no real destination plotted. Wherever she took him was where he'd go. If he ever got the Pearl back, Ana would be his first mate and damn whomever got in his way.

"You will one day," Jack replied instead.

"I've responsibility and a life here," she sighed, "I can't go gallivantin' off to become a pirate. 'sides, most men don't like women aboard their ships."

"I'm not most men," Jack said with a rakish grin, "Once I find a ship it'll be you and I, then we'll have to go about finding a crew."

"I have a boat..." she offered with a laugh. Why not? She felt caution flying to the wind, she had a pirate in her room, she'd seen him kill someone in front of her, he was drunk, she was... insane, she finished rationalizing still feeling the urge to laugh at the impossibility of the situation.

"You have a boat," Jack echoed.

"Yes. An englishman lost it to me in a game of dice. I've kept it, but never learned how to properly sail. It's still here though. You can take it when you're better... for the right price."

"How's about I take you with me as payment, you've got to feel her singing to you, see how she responds to the ocean, you said you want to travel. What better way to do it?"

"You speak of the boat as if it were a person," she smiled.

"Not a person, no. But a ship has a sail, deck, keel, bow, and all of them have a purpose. A ship speaks to the wind and ocean, if a man gets to see the ships soul, he has the protection of everything the ship does."

"Do you talk to ship's often?" Ana asked, "you talk to her, she to you, sailing the ocean with no one else for company?"

"In short, aye. 's exactly what's done. You can't imagine the beauty of the moment when both horizon and air blend into one and all that's left is the music of the ocean. Her song can't be heard by any 'cept those who're worthy. I'll show it to you."

"I'll be there," she agreed not knowing Jack would take her word on the matter.

"It looks a lot better than it did before," Jack remarked looking down at where the brand lay on his arm.

"It should. And it won't hurt you anymore now." Ana made sure of that. Once the sensitive skin had been taken away, the burn was all that remained. The skin would still be tight and resistant to a lot of movement, but she knew it wouldn't be as crippling to him as it had been before.

"Go to sleep, love," Jack admonished, she was practically falling asleep where she sat. He, on the other hand, was happily navigating the world between reality and delusion. His vision was blurry around the edges, but he'd been there before and knew how to keep the darkness at bay.

Should he be afraid that this form of reality was as real to him as being fully conscious? Was this a sign of madness? No, he decided, it was another skill to hone and perfect. He felt a similar feeling when he spoke to the Pearl, the earth faded away and left him in perfect accord with his ship. It wasn't madness and if it were, he mentally shrugged, so be it.

"Can't," she said on an embarrased yawn, "there's still the other cut to worry about."

"It's stopped bleeding, it'll keep until tomorrow. You need to get some rest 'fore morning."

"I'll sleep here, you take the bed," she pulled out a cot from underneath the bed and made ready to bed down on the floor.

"Beg pardon," Jack threw back the covers and halted her before she lay down, "you'll do no such thing."

"You can't sleep on the floor," she defied.

"Why not? I've slept on worse." He remembered the interior of the island's cache, the floor of the cell, he found himself grinning at her outrage that he sleep on a comfortable cot.

"Precisley, and you don't have to now. Don't argue with me, Jack, I'll sleep on the roof if you don't take the bed."

"Bloody stubborn woman," Jack muttered enchanted by her innocence.

"'s one of my better qualities," Ana smiled and held out a hand towards the bed. "Oh, one moment. You'll probably be more comfortable out of those clothes, aye?"

She hurried out of the room before Jack could say anything more. Returning before Jack could do more than chuckle she held out a fresh pair of black pants and a new white shirt.

"Had them on hand from men who've rented rooms. They should fit well enough, I'd imagine. I'll go and put these things away," she shoved everything into a basket and went out the door again.

Jack rested the clothes on top of a table and started laughing.

* * *

After a fierce row between the two of them, Jack had finally managed to manipulate Ana into sleeping on the bed with him. He was not going to take her bed while she tossed and turned due to the chill of the floor and she wouldn't have him sleeping on the floor with his injuries. They'd reached this conclusion after Jack had feigned exhaustion, she'd grumbled and cursed him, but now lay beside him sleeping soundly.

He'd felt as if he'd tamed some sort of wild creature, her verbal abuse and threats left him more tired than the fight with Raynard. Jack smiled as he saw her eyes flashing in the candlelight hair flying around her in agitation and exasperation.

He tensed once as he felt her move, but sleep had made her malleable. She'd rested her head on his shoulder one hand over his heart her restlessness felt the darkness subside at her actions. She trusted him, asleep and vulnerable, the space that she'd insisted they keep banished as dreams overtook her.

He was free to wrap his hand in her soft hair as he followed suit. He dreamed of the ocean and being back with the Pearl. Like many other times, he'd had the same dream, but this time he had his spirited Anamaria onboard with him. Her eyes mirrored the ocean's blue and green calling him home and to peace.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Authors Note: **Pendragginink**- I'm going to try and answer your questions and all here. As for what I don't mention, it'll be discussed in the story. Lol.

- **Pirate obsessed**, I know exactly what you mean. Every time I go to the bookstore I storm through the biography, history, and other sections for more on pirates. Lol.

- As bad as Tortuga sounds, the people who live there are safe enough because they all know one another. No one would mess with Ana because she's so good at what she does and also because her mothers reputation protects her.

- Jack's pistol, he won't use it on anyone except Barbossa. That's why even in the movie Barbossa comments, "You've been carrying that pistol ten years and now you waste your shot." But it wasn't wasted, Barbossa died and Jack got his revenge. It was great.

- I agree with you on the man vs. woman theory. I much prefer sword- fighting though, it's so much more fun than shoot shoot bang bang they're dead. It's a lot more satisfying don't you agree?

- She couldn't just leave to get the rum because Jack would think she ran away from him. You know what awkward silences are. At least she wouldn't say something like, "You're injured!" I dislike stating the obvious, but on the rare occasion it must be done. But I didn't want Jack left alone right then because he might not have stuck around. Eesh, don't even want to think about what might happen then.

Now, I apologize for this abysmally long authors note and I'll get on with the story.

_ _ _

"Anamarie Lycrae, I can't believe my eyes," they both woke to a very irate woman in a fine green dress standing in the doorway both hands on her hips.

"Aunt Catherine," Ana asked hoarse from sleep. She didn't want to deal with this now, she wanted to go back to sleep curled up to the extra warmth- wait, who the blazes?

She growled in exasperation remembering Jack's manipulation of her otherwise perfect rationality.

"And a good thing I stopped by, too. I do not believe your behavior! Why, I turn my back for one minute and find you in bed with this... man!"

"Beggin' your pardon," Jack interrupted having gathered his wits at her first bellow, "but what exactly seems to be the problem?"

They were both clothed and nothing indecent had transpired. Her voice was grating on his nerves and slight headache from all the rum ingested the previous day. Unfortunately, her voice raised another octave in reply, Jack closed his eyes against a tone that would have broken glass.

"What seems to be the problem?! I find my niece in bed with you and you ask me what the problem is?!"

"Calm yourself, woman," Jack fought the urge to reach for his pistol. It was a miracle the bloody woman hadn't brought down the tavern with her vocal cords.

"Don't address me so callously, sir," she sniffed looking down her nose at them. "I expect to see you both downstairs, at once. Attire yourself in something decent, Anamarie."

She slammed the door so hard the sound echoed in Jack's mind sharply afterwards.

"That," Jack motioned with his uninjured arm, "was your aunt?"

"Aye. Aunt Catherine, she checks in every now and again to criticize... everything," Ana groaned at the predicament she was in, how would she explain this? "She's part of the upper nobility here, one of the few. That's why she hardly ever stops by, and why you can be sure it's at least two hours before we open."

"Doesn't the woman have eyes," Jack washed his face at the basin and dried it on a soft blue towel. "your reputation is still intact, if that's what she's worried about."

It had been a long time since he'd considered things such as reputation and a woman's virtue. He'd heard tales from the crew on the Black Pearl, being chased by irate fathers, escaping weddings, the consequences of sleeping with a virgin, but he'd never experienced it first hand.

"She's always expected me to bed men for profit, like my mother, she says. It's not true, my mother did no such thing. After father died at sea she never married another. She died shortly after that, I've never sold my body as a harlot."

"Have you never had-"he stopped in the middle of the sentence mentally kicking himself. At the narrowed glare she turned on him he'd stopped just in time.

He was out of practice, the women he'd slept with had been experienced and not averse to some coarse talk of their own. He was out of his element here, how would he have guessed the tavern owner was close to nobility? Jack wanted a moment to gain his bearings, fate was a cruel mistress doling favor and spite in equal measures.

He turned his back at her request feeling even more lost. The women who'd gotten dressed after their encounter had no qualms with modesty, they made dressing as much of a game as getting undressed.

Ana wore a dark blue dress with white lace around the hem and bodice, the blue contrasted admirably with her dark coloring and magnificent eyes.

"I think that's a little too personal of a question for only knowing me two days," she brushed out her hair and washed her face. "but no, I haven't and I don't believe you would compare me to them."

"My apologies, love," Jack said putting his arm around her waist despite her glares, "I wasn't thinking straight, I'd never have compared you to them otherwise."

There, he was back on his feet, soothing an irate woman's ire, he'd been there enough times to know his way around. Women, complicated creatures, smiling one minute and in an uproar the next.

"Keep your thoughts straight about that, at least," she grinned to soften her words, allowing him to open the door for her, "'sides, it's me who's going to apologize for what she says to you soon."

"Sticks and stones, Ana. What she says doesn't matter, it's what you believe that does."

Jack stared at the window in quiet contemplation, he could escape unnoticed... cursing he closed the door behind him, he hadn't run from the East India Company, surely one condescendingly haughty woman would be easier to deal than trained military men.

"It certainly took you two long enough. Just who are you, sir," Catherine demanded once Ana and Jack reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Mind how you speak to guests, aunt," Anamaria snapped, "I don't believe I've ever invited you into my quarters, especially so early in the morning without warning."

"He's a guest, is he?" Catherine asked disdainfully looking Jack over as if he were an animal to purchase. He was lean and had the look of one of those dreadful sea-sailors. From his long black hair tied with coins, feathers, and beads he looked positively indecent.

"Yes, he is," Ana took three chairs off the tables and both she and Jack sat down.

Jack was glad of the thoughtfulness Ana showed him despite the circumstances, he was certainly stronger than he'd been previously, but he still felt his muscles protesting their climb down the stairs.

"Name's Jack Sparrow," he met her gaze arrogantly, "Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

"What was he doing in your room, Anamarie?"

"My name is Anamaria. Not Anamarie. Why must you insist upon calling me by a name that's not my own?"

"Annamaria sounds so uncivilized and improper. Annamarie sounds like a good decent name for a good Christian girl."

"Which I'm not. I'm a barmaid, aunt, not anything else you might think. I make good profit here, I even send you quarter, so why barge in banging my door down demanding explanation for which you have no right?"

"I am appalled, simply appalled by your behavior. Why, your uncle wanted to come down here himself to drag you home, but I insisted that I could get you to change your mind over this dreadful pub."

"This is my home," Ana felt the familiar heat in her blood that happened whenever her aunt showed for a visit. She wasn't a proper woman, she didn't lead a good christian life, her soul was going to be damned, she was no better than a whore, Ana had heard as much as she wanted and had made it clear that Christine's presence wasn't welcome.

"No it isn't. It's a bar. The very epitome of sin and think of whom you spend your time with. The dregs of society, just look at him!"

"One more word about Jack, Aunt, and I won't be responsible for my actions." Ana warned deadly serious. She'd tolerated the slurs against her name, her tavern, but she'd be damned before it went any further. Ana knew her aunt would slander her mother's name next.

"I can see that civility isn't going to get-"her eyes widened and she went deathly pale. Jack followed her gaze to his arm where the 'P' was branded. Bloody hell, he should have been more careful, but it was too late for regrets now.

Ana saw where her aunt was staring and considered strangling the woman before she screamed the bar down. Catherine's eyes flashed pale blue sparks as she stared at Jack with new hatred.

"A pirate," she hissed crossing herself as she stood in a huff, "you're a pirate!"

"So we've concluded," Jack said dryly. "now leave before I show you what we pirates do for fun."

"Just you wait, Anamarie. I'll bring your uncle down here to gag you if he has to. You'll be brought up properly if it's the last thing I do. How could you associate with pirates," she snarled the last word as if she couldn't get it off her tongue fast enough.

"The pirates are the ones whose profit you benefit from once every month when I send the money," Ana said forcefully.

"Not anymore. I'll see you as a nun before I let another pirate near you."

"It's too late. I'll be gone before you get back with uncle."

"Then your tavern is mine to do with as I please," she smiled evilly, "and it'll serve well as firewood."

"Not if I have to drag you down to the depths of hell as revenge," Ana threatened, her fists clenching at her side. "get out before I make true my promise now."

"You'll get your due, you whore, just like your mother did."

"Out!" Ana yelled procuring the dagger from her skirts. She threw it into the wood near her aunt's head. Catherine squealed staring at Ana as if she had grown another head.

"I'll bring your uncle with me, just you watch, she was gone in a whirl of skirts and crinoline.

"Well, that was interesting," Jack remarked once she'd left.

"She's always been like that, decency wrapped in shrew. I'll take you up on that offer, Captain Sparrow, if it's still open?"

"Of course, but what about your tavern?"

"I'll make sure she never gets her hands on it," Ana swore and Jack followed her as she swept out the door.

He trailed her down the street, through twists and turns in the road he kept pace with her asking no questions. She stopped in front of another tavern, which slightly resembled hers.

"Rafe!" she called loudly, "Rafe Murenek, I'm callin' for ye're help!"

"Aye, n' what c'n I do fer ye, lass?" a man as tall as Jack but twice as muscled stepped out the door with a grin on his face. He was darkly featured with a dangerous air about him.

"I need ye' t'watch me bar 'till I be getting' back, aye?"

Jack listened to her change in speech, nobility to cockney, she was full of surprises. He could appreciate that now that his plan was being put into action. He'd have liked to have a little more time to get things together, but she said she had a ship, he'd take what he could get.

"Anythin' for ye'." Rafe laughed, "the she-bitch back again?"

"Aye. A few month's I'll be gone, ye'll be watching m'tavern, keepin'er safe?"

"Deal's good as done," Rafe shook Ana's hand as if sealing a bargain before calling seven names.

Sam, Greyson, Henri, Rickard, Milla, Tom, and Vane all appeared at their brothers command. They greeted Anamaria warmly and treated Jack the same. Milla was the only woman among them, and from the looks of it, she could hold her against the men.

The seven were all built like their brother with the exception of Milla who was delicate and pretty as a gem. They accepted the task with easy grins and a shared hatred of Catherine. They promised that she'd not get the better of them and that Ana's tavern would still be safe until she got back.

Henri swore that he had several friends who would be glad to help out for coin and Ana said that whatever profit they made could be split between them. That made them even happier to help. Ana's only stipulation was that the tavern be kept immaculately clean at the end of the day, Milla swore she'd mop the floors and clean the tables herself.

Having completed that Ana showed Jack where to purchase the things they'd need for a long voyage. At Jack's questioning she filled him in on the rag-tag family.

Rafe's brothers would be happy to stay forever so long as they were able to keep the profit and the liquor was well stocked. Rickard would make sure that there was plenty to go around and he was in charge of ordering more when it was needed. He was the accountant of them all and each worked separately together to complete a task. They worked as a family though they weren't blood related.

"That's where you learned the accent," Jack admired Ana's adaptibility, she'd made good friends here, trustworthy friends, who had proven themselves to be loyal to her. He was glad that she'd found a place with the family what with her mother's death and aunt's callousness.

"Picked it up from customers, too. I know how to speak french, spanish, and I know other accents, not just this one."

"I know french, but I'll teach you Italian for Spanish," Jack bartered.

"Done. I'll get the boat and then we're set, right?"

"Just about, I'll need to check with a merchant for extra parts. I have plenty of coin for whatever's needed, no worries there."

"So do I," Ana added already anticipating being out on the ocean.

And why shouldn't she? She had no doubt Catherine would return in a day or so to try and take her away. If she came with authority there was a chance they had been paid to side with her aunt. Rafe would be able to hold the tavern, he was friends with many people in Tortuga. The authorities wouldn't be a match for them, they'd run and hide already afraid of dark alleys and thieves.

She'd return one day soon and reclaim ownership of her mother's tavern, what was the harm in seeing the world before settling down again? She had thought the conversation with Jack had been midnight talk, the kind that died as morning came, but he seemed serious in his intentions.

"Perfect. Take whatever you need, there'll be plenty of room aboard I'll warrant."

"I won't forget the rum," she laughed as Jack's eyes warmed again at the mention of rum.

She didn't know his almost tender expression had nothing to do with liquor, her determination and spirit called to him as the Pearl had. She was already a pirate, in his mind, she just lacked the experience to commandeer a ship.

That could be learned quickly enough and he thanked the Fates that he would be the one to teach her.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"Jack," he turned as his voice was called.

"Eaylin?" She looked so much different than before. Her hair was down in soft brown waves and her eyes sparkled healthily.

"I found him, Jack," she laughed in pure joy, "he was working on the docks and he hid me from..."

They all knew the name would be dangerous to say, people heard and remembered even their drunkenness.

"I'm very glad for you, love," Jack grinned as he saw a strong, well- built lad of about twenty come to stand at her side.

"Zachary Almonte at your service, Captain," he bowed elegantly.

"Jack Sparrow at yours," Jack replied feeling slightly out of place again. "What the blazes, we're all mates, are we not?"

"I'm indebted to you, Captain, for helping my lass." There was a wealth of gratitude in the man's eyes, Jack knew the haunted feeling of loss that was buried there, also. The two men shook hands as if sharing the pain and experiences that had brought them to this moment. Jack had seen the brand on Zachary's arm and he knew the lad had seen his.

"She saved my life, I saved hers. We're square," Jack looked at Eaylin feeling the wind ruffle his hair, he smelled flowers again and knew why, "and this is Anamaria, the true Captain here."

"Glad you meet you," Anamaria looked at how happy Zachary and Eaylin looked. They were never far from one another and they positively glowed in happiness.

"Did he find you," Eaylin asked biting her lip glancing at Jack's new injuries, "I tried to find you, I didn't want to ask around and we were hiding--"

"He's gone," Jack interrupted gently, "he won't be back again. No apologies are needed between us, you found what you were looking for and I found treasure of me own. Would you, by any chance, know what happened to his crew?"

"They left come morning. I don't know why they left in such a hurry, but I doubt they'll be back. They ran like the devil was after them."

"Just so long as they're still not around," Jack wasn't too keen on meeting them somewhere on the ocean, but once he had the Pearl back there would be no reason to worry.

"And your arm?"

"Never better," Jack showed her the bandaged wound and she nodded in approval.

"Your doing," she asked Anamaria a speculative look in her eyes.

"Aye," Ana replied recognizing that look. She shook her head at the girl's unasked question, Eaylin smiled anyway as she saw the posessive look in Jack's eyes.

"We're to be married in fortnight," Zachary said to break the silence, he'd noticed the women's interchange and was confused by it.

"A wedding? I love weddings! Drinks all round," Jack smiled and held up his hand as if toasting them.

"Congratulations," Anamaria couldn't have picked two more people better suited for one another.

"We'll check in when we set port again, savvy? And look for your wedding present on the next merchant ship to dock here."

"'s not necessary..." Eaylin blushed and lowered her eyes. Zachary tipped her head up and kissed her smiling when the blush deepened.

"Watch for the merchant ship." Jack said sincerely happy that, for once, a plan had worked for everyone involved.

"We'll be watching," Eaylin impuslively ran over and kissed Jack on the cheek. "Thank you, Captain Sparrow, I'll never forget your kindness."

Her tone had none of the numbness that he remembered, there was a darkness in her eyes, but that was fading, he could see, in lieu of her happiness.

The two couples said goodbye, Jack watched them walk away. Zachary kept his arm firmly around Eaylin's waist as if afraid she'd disappear. Time healed all wounds, Jack remembered the saying, and they were both on the road to recovery.

"They were so happy," Ana sighed, "how did you know her? She knew of... things... and your injuries."

"An old friend 's all," Jack pocketed a roll as he went past one of the venders. The owner didn't notice the missing item and Jack broke it and half and gave part to Ana.

"Mmm... honey bread," She said as the sweet flavor filled her mouth. It was the best bread on the island, she had eaten it for breakfast with a glass of sweetened milk as a child.

"Where's the boat docked?" Jack asked curbing his anticipation.

"Just right of the pier, Lary's been watching it for-" Jacks gaze followed to where she was staring and murderous rage boiled up inside him. Red flooded his sight and he found himself reaching for his sword not remembering that it had broken.

"Robert DeRyat." he snarled. "One of Barbossa's mutinous crewmen."

Robert looked up into Jack's eyes dispassionately. "I knew you'd find us one day," he said tonelessly.

"You knew bloody right. Leaving me for dead on that blasted spit of land. You forgot one very important thing. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, mate. You'll remember that name as you die."

"I didn't want them to maroon you," Robert said quietly before Annamaria could pull Jack's shoulder and smack some sense into him.

"Did a right good job of voicing your concern as you left me with one bloody bullet!" Jack hauled him up off the bench and slammed him into the wall. The fatigue he felt from walking around Tortuga faded as rage took over. "Now you lie to save your pathetic hide."

"Jack Sparrow put him down!" Annamaria pulled Jack's shirt and forced him to take a few steps backwards, "have you gone mad!"

"He has good reason, Ana."

"You know this yellow coward?!" Jack exclaimed sweeping his hand to where Rob stood.

"He's a good friend and loyal customer," Ana shouted defiantly standing between Rob and Jack, "and they'll be no more talk of murder until I know what the ruddy hell you're talking about, the both of you!"

* * *

"So you were Captain of the Black Pearl?" Ana asked in disbelief.

"Aye, he was. Barbossa led a mutiny and left him on an island, they were sure that he would die within the week."

"Nay, Barbossa didn't lead a mutiny," Jack slammed the rum bottle down angrily, "The whole blasted crew mutinied together. Excepting William Turner and Gibbs, the rest of them cried for my death to the moon."

"I didn't," Rob objected.

"Like hell," Jack hissed, "I saw you standing next to Pintel laughing as they threatened to sting me up."

"Not laughing," Rob shook his head forcefully. "Think back, really remember. Did you see me chanting as they left? Did you notice me fighting to the front trying to stop them as they shot at you? Do you recall the days you played cards with me on the deck?"

"Aye, I remember playing cards, drinking with you in the pubs, but-" and here he stopped in mid-sentence. Now that he put himself back in the memory he remembered someone shouting no as bullets flew through the air. The voice was too high to be Gibb's and too low to be Will's.

"You remember," Rob sighed as the darkness faded from Jack's eyes. He knew his Captain well enough to know when the danger was passed, Jack no longer wanted him dead.

"I do." Jack said grudgingly, "Seems I owe you an apology."

"None needed. I objected, I want you to know that, but after what happened to Bootstrap no one said anything more about the matter."

Jack's blood froze in his veins, "what do you mean, what happened to William?"

"I don't know for sure, mind you. I disbanded along with Gibbs when we set port a month or so later. The only thing I've heard are rumors."

Anamaria ran her hand along Jack's arm, every muscle in his body was tense, almost as if he were bracing himself for a hit. The rum sat forgotten on the table and Jack's eyes never left Robert.

"Where is he?" Jack asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Bootstrap died over seven months ago."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

_Authors Note: I REALLY am going to go and work on the Agent Sands fic again soon. It's just that this bout of writers block cleared itself with POTC chapters and if I refused to write them. . . how ungracious would I be? So I'm just going to write until I have a new idea for Sands. Hopefully soon. . ._

"Bootstrap Bill Turner is... dead," Jack whispered. It couldn't be, William couldn't be dead!

"Aye," Rob tried to judge Jack's mood, his Captain was unpredictable at the best of times, "Tale goes that Barbossa didn't like what Bootstrap said about leaving you marooned. They, um. . . do you want to hear the rest?"

Jack barely registered what he said after that. William was dead because of him. He lay at the bottom of the ocean because of he'd tried to protect his Captain.

Why the blazes hadn't Gibbs taken him with them? Why was he left behind with his cursed morals and honor? He should have become a man of the Navy with his ideals not a bloody pirate. Now he'd gone and died a pirate's death, but somewhere Jack acknowledged that joining the Navy would never have satisfied Bootstrap.

Still, William had had a son and a woman waiting for him when piracy no longer called. Now the one man who deserved it more than anything was gone.

"Jack?" Annamaria calling his name brought him back to reality.

"Aye, finish the story. I'll not dishonor his name by refusing to hear the whole thing."

"Very well," Rob looked a little hesitant but he continued all the same, "Something happened aboard and word carries that they tied Bootstrap's bootstraps to a cannon and then fired it..."

Grief was plain on Rob's face as he recalled the story, William Turner had been a good man, loyal, honest, his death had been a shock and a travesty for all pirates.

"Bloody bastards," Jack stood and threw the chair he was sitting in across the room. He remembered Ragetti wanting to do that to him. 'Why don't we fire him from a cannon?' Jack didn't see the wound on his arm open and drip blood to the floor.

Now it seems that instead of simply marooning Will the cowards had. . . Jack didn't want to think about what that meant. The pain William must have faced, the fear, nowhere to run, nothing to do. He'd have died honorably, head held high, but...

Will would have been fighting for his life as his own blood circled him in the water. The loss of blood would have weakened him and then he would no longer have any strength to fight the sea creatures that would come around him...

An inhuman cry was torn from him. Jack didn't know what to do. The pain was escalating inside of him and he fought to keep the emotion inside, he couldn't destroy Ana's tavern. Through the blinding agony and returning rationality only one name came to mind.

Barbossa. Barbossa was the one responsible for all of this. Him and his scabrous, cowardly, villainous crew. Jack would hunt them all down one by one and kill them for what they did. This was one of the darkest marks against them and he would get them all or die trying.

Jack walked outside needing fresh air to soothe his mind, he needed privacy, he couldn't bear their eyes on him. He thought it couldn't get any worse, it had.

The first to ever befriend him on the ship besides Gibbs. He used to talk of his woman and son all the time, wanting to be with them but not willing to give up the ocean just yet. Why hadn't Jack convinced him to go and settle down? Why hadn't Will left once Jack was Captain? He could have retired rich as a king and twice as happy.

He slammed his fists against the wall not caring that the vibration made his arm ache all over again. The pain added fuel to his rage. He wished Raynard was still alive and would come after him again, he could use a good fight. Damn them! He punched at the wall again a few more times before sinking down along it's side.

One of his knuckles was bleeding, his shirt was dotted with blood from wounds that had opened, he stared at it as he thought back to the days aboard the Pearl. Will's son would be about seven years old now? Did that seem about right? Jack shrugged, around there give or take a few years. He'd bet William had named the lad after himself.

Will Turner, the boy would have one hell of a name to live up too. He just hoped the mother would bring him up to be proud of the fact his father was a pirate, and not grow to hate them as so many people now did. If young Will, if that was indeed his name, ever wanted to become a pirate Jack would be sure to find out about it. He would have a safe place aboard the Pearl, and if he hated pirates. . . well, he just hoped that that bit of information never got around to his hearing.

Life was cruel, a father dies a bloody hero and the child rues the day he was ever born. A man born a pauper in the streets who has children hero-worship his name. Jack sighed, which brought back to mind the fact that Bootstrap was gone and Kayrna was too.

A few more minutes of sitting resting his head on his arms, a shadow half across his face and his knees supporting his arms and he almost had the grief under control. Sadness was a tricky thing, most tried to beat it away with anger, only a few actually let the tears fall freely down their face. Jack wasn't one of those people, sadness was an emotion reeking of vulnerability that others preyed upon.

He would avenge William Turner, find his sister, and regain control of his ship the Black Pearl.

Anamaria sat down next to him on the ground and gathered her skirts together so as not to crowd him. She didn't need to say a word, only having known him a day or so she already was attuned to his moods. Now was not the time for talking, so she did the only thing warranted during this particular situation.

She rested her head on his shoulder and took his hand in hers. The silent comfort meant much more to him than words ever would. She hadn't known Bootstrap and she wouldn't besmirch Jack's memory by pretending she did. Jack put his arm around her shoulders and pretended for a short time that they were the only ones that mattered.

Catherine would come with Ana's uncle, they would be long gone before then, but as for right now... he took consolation in her presence. The future would come, and gods willing, she would be by his side. He'd rule the seas again and those traitorous bastards would rue the day they'd crossed Captain Jack Sparrow.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

"We really should leave before your aunt and uncle return," Jack sighed and buried his grief behind a door that he would return to later.

"I know," she lightly squeezed his hand before standing and brushing off her skirts.

"Robert still inside?" He remembered the sadness in Rob's gaze and knew that he was speaking the truth.

"He has a pint of rum to keep him busy," Ana paused, "are you... well... now?"

"Never better, love." Jack's eyes brightened to the same amber-gold they had been before.

Ana watched as Jack seemed to transform before her eyes. He got to his feet, head held high, darkness seemed to receded from him leaving him light-hearted and anticipatory. It was disconcerting, to say the least, especially after she'd seen him hurl a chair across the room shaking with some inner demon. Now-- no, Ana could see, his eyes were still dark though he was trying to hide it.

"What say you we find Robert and get him away from here for awhile."

"'s a good idea. Robert's been here too long, there's naught for him to do," she went along with him not knowing what else to do.

"Did I hear my name?" Robert asked coming to the door.

"I'm having a thought here, follow, mate?" Jack took Rob conspiratorially by the shoulder and turned him to face where the ocean would be. "We have a ship to sail and no one t'man her. Now there's Anamaria, but she doesn't know how to sail. That's nothing to fear, I have no doubt she'll learn fast, but that leaves me to teach her and command a ship all by me onesies, savvy?"

"I'll be happy to go with you, Jack." Robert knew there was no way he could decline this offer and if Rob didn't stop him now Jack would be content to talk all day.

"I knew you would. Now if you would be so kind," he smiled winningly at Annamaria, "if you'd be very kind as to show us to your ship?"

"O'course, Captain," she frowned a moment, "I'll just be needing to get a few things from inside first and you'd best follow."

* * *

"This is it, Ana?" Jack asked staring open-mouthed at the boat. He was dressed in a new white shirt, wounds mended, feeling slightly chagrined that a woman could put him so fully into his place.

"That's'er." Ana replied.

"But. . ."

"Not what you expected," she asked somewhat amused. He was the one that had kept referring to it as a ship, she'd said boat numerous times, but he had declined to hear it.

"Well, to be honest... you said... this is a..."

"I think its perfect," Robert announced jovially.

Jack looked towards the boat again. The sails were well-made, they even looked new, the wood was good quality and sealed well, but the small hole in the bottom of the ship, boat, would have to be fixed.

Jack wondered how much rum Robert had ingested, but the boat would do until they got past the Windward Passage to a small island off the coast of Tortuga. He was the first one to step aboard, and was heartened to see that only a small amount of water crept in.

It was roomier than it seemed more a gentleman's boat. There was storage below decks and a cabin, it was a small vessel to be sure, but it wasn't a row-boat. Four of them would equal the length of the Pearl, he groaned in his mind, he'd meant that to sound optimistic.

"She's exactly as you said," Jack agreed hoping that she hadn't seen the doubt in his face, it'll take us where we need to go." There would be enough room for the three of them to inhabit comfortably, he could use the cabin to map a course if he had to.

Jack and Robert maneuvered the boat onto shore where they quickly patched holes and prepared the boat for voyage. A few trips into town bought the supplies needed and Robert stored them belowdecks carefully.

"What are we waiting for indeed," he sighed as he felt the oceans waves move the boat. He quickly found its rhythm and climbed to the Crows Nest to scope out what direction they would need to sail.

Pretty soon Ana was up there with him and he was teaching her how to navigate. She was a fast learner, she already knew the name of the ship's parts and what each of them did. It would take only a few days for her to apply what she knew to real life experience.

"Where did you go after you disbanded the Pearl?" Jack asked curiously the third day of the voyage. They had plenty of food left and also a lot of rum, it would be about three days more until they got to the island.

"Took small jobs mostly around where Katy was." Jack winced slightly at the name, it was a little close to home for him, but what was in a name?

"Katy, I remember you speaking of her. Where is she now?" Jack didn't notice Anamaria's small gestures for him not to mention the subject. Jack caught the gist himself when he saw the look on Rob's face.

"Oh. . . so that's the way of it, eh," he sobered fast and sat on one of the wooden seats on the bottom of the boat. "You did well for her, I'm sure, before... can't ask more'n that, lad."

"So young, Jack." He looked towards the horizon, "All those years sailing and not a thought about what she was thinking."

"Y'cant undo the past, what's done is done. She loved you and you her. That's what matters. The two decisions that mean anything in this world are these: what a man can do, and what a man cant do."

"And I couldn't settle down on land," Rob sighed. "But I could leave her to die."

"You didn't leave her to die, I'd warrant you stayed by her side until her last breath."

"I boarded a ship... after... and found Ana's tavern. Been trying to drown myself ever since. Didn't work to well, did it." He half-grinned wryly.

"You're here, aren't you? Surrounded by ocean, plenty of rum and water to drown in if that's what you really wanted." That was question and answer enough to quell Robert's fears that he hadn't done enough.

The guilt was still there but it no longer burned a hole through his chest every time he thought of her. She would always be with him and he would accept her presence without worrying what her last thoughts had been or if she was disappointed in him.

Jack let him go, grief was a tricky thing to tangle with and Rob would be alright eventually. He noticed that the rum bottle Robert had been carrying was lying untouched on the bottom of the boat and knew that the man would be fine in the end.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

_Authors Note: I'm afraid that the amount of stories this story's taken is going to look daunting to some people. I apologize for that, and I might change chapters so they're doubled the length thereby cutting the chapter amount at least a little._

What was taking them so long, Anamaria wondered as she waited for Jack and Robert to return. It had been mid-day when they docked the ship at a relatively small island past the Windward Passage. She had opted to stay with the ship while Jack and Robert had gone off talking about calling in past debts.

The tavern was no longer rightfully hers, she'd left it to Rafe's siblings and from the looks of things it was now theirs. It wasn't as if she couldn't go back every now and then to check on things. Rafe and his sisters and brothers had complained that their tavern was too small for al of them anyway, he'd offered to buy it from her.

They'd gotten what they wanted, Ana had the solution and guarantee that her aunt and uncle wouldn't get it. She didn't mind, the ship was hers and she could never call anything else home again.

Now, lying on a hammock docked off the shore, she felt bone- wrenchingly exhausted. Whomever had said sailing was a good past-time must not have been the one in charge or part of the crew. Everyday was a new challenge, one she met straight on, but 'twas difficult and dangerous all the same.

It was good to finally be able to rest and-

"Make one sound and we'll have your innards spilt all o'er the deck, understand?" a hoarse voice asked as he wrapped his large arms around her neck. Anamaria nodded her head yes and wondered how best to take this man down.

"I though' you said there weren't to be anyone onboard," she could see another less bulky man come up on deck, he was obviously the follower of the man holding her captive.

"It's only a woman, probly the Captains whore." Anamaria rammed her elbow into his stomach, whirled around and punched him cleanly in the nose avoiding his hands which reached out to grab at her as he doubled over.

"Bloody bitch," he snarled wiping the blood that ran down his face, the bone wasn't broken though just a little more force would have most likely achieved that result.

"Get off my ship," she warned, she cocked and loaded the pistol at her waist. Ana inwardly thanked Robert for his precaution in giving her his pistol, "I'm armed and you're not."

"Your ship?" the man with the bloody nose asked, "You are a woman therefore you have no ship. I aint never heard of a woman pirate before."

"Neither've I," remarked his accomplice.

They might never have heard of a woman pirate, but they could obviously see one. She held the pistol steadily aimed on them and while both men were loath to admit it, she had the upper hand now.

"So a bunch of thieves stow away on some boat and try to steal abandoned ships, is that it?" Ana asked mockingly.

"Shut your trap or we'll close it for you."

"Yeah, you tell her, Al."

The man named Al took a step forward and Anamaria reacted by pressing the trigger. Instead of the deafening shot they expected the pistol faulted and didn't go off.

"And that's your mistake," Al laughed mercilessly as he delivered a back-handed smack to her cheek. "We won't kill you just yet, no, in fact we'll make sure you learn your lesson before we sail the ship out of the dock."

"What about the crew," Al's partner asked. "Won't they be back?"

"This isn't Tortuga, Eroyl. They won't be back until morning tomorrow. No one will find her until mid-afternoon then at the latest. We have all night."

Anamaria licked the blood that ran from the corner of her lip. She couldn't fight both of them right now, she would have to wait for the most opportune moment. Remembering Jack's advice, never go into battle unprepared.

She thought this was supposed to be the safest island of them all. These men had proven her wrong. No honor among thieves, woman or not if she fought them without being certain of success, they wouldn't hesitate to kill her.

"Bring'er below decks, I'm sure there's storage and no one will hear her screams." Al instructed. Anamaria forced herself to be still as Eroyl grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck and forced her down the stairs.

He cuffed her hard on the back of the head once they reached the room. So these men knew more about ships than she'd figured, she turned to look at him from glowing enraged eyes. Who would attempt to steal a ship without a weapon?

"Someone needs to tame ye, wench," he snarled. White light went off inside her mind and try as she might the darkness reached for her and sent her hurtling down the road to oblivion.

* * *

Jack leaned back in the chair comfortably with both legs stretched out in front of him. He looked around interestedly, there was nothing really lively on this island. It was one of the more peaceful islands, which was the only reason he left Anamaria onboard alone. He and Robert were relaxing for a drink before finishing the hiring of crewmen.

The favor was called in and he got back one of the ships he'd won from pillaging and plundering on the high seas. She was a beauty, the man who harbored it for him had obviously kept up his side of the bargain. There was no way that she was faster than 'The Black Pearl' but it would rival one of the lesser ships on the Caribbean.

The only thing he was missing now was Anamaria, she would have sat next to him and drank rum, too. Unlike most women, she wasn't against liquor. She seemed to enjoy it as much as he. Well of course, he mused, she had been a barmaid. He'd need to get back soon with some. Robert was talking heatedly with a potential crewman over rate of pay.

Jack felt a strange prickling at the back of his neck, it made his nerves stand on end. It was the same feeling he had when the Pearl's'crew mutinied. Looking around he saw nothing out of the ordinary meaning only one thing...

Making sure to keep the pretense of calm he caught Roberts eye and motioned for him to continue. Robert turned back to what he was doing and Jack threw down a few coins to pay for the rum. Once outside the tavern he broke into a quick paced run, he couldn't leave her alone for one minute without her getting into some kind of trouble.

* * *

Anamaria's eyes fluttered open in the dark, dank, hold of the ship. Panic rose to her throat before she forced it down again, it was only the dark, nothing to be afraid of. They wouldn't have abandoned her, would they?

"She's 'wake!" Ana heard the call and cursed herself for her foolishness, of course they wouldn't have left her! Jack would have rolled his eyes and gone about concocting a new plan, but fast-thinking was his forte. She liked to plan, have a strategy.

Jack sailed with the cunning and improvisation of a wizened sailor and it was the only thing that saved them. They would have died at least twice in the treacherous passage, but with the challenge running clearly on his expression he shouted instructions and kept the small ship from sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Ana took stock of her position, they had tied her arms around one of the beams that supported the ceiling. There was plenty of room to move around, but she couldn't get away.

"Good. She can't sleep forever." She heard the footsteps come closer and rested her forehead on her knees. There was a dagger strapped to her leg, if she could only reach that she'd have a good chance of getting them to leave her alone.

"Don't pretend with us, wench. You've performed your tricks for the Captain, why don't you show us a few?"

"You want to see tricks?" Ana purred, Eryol and Al obviously missed the dangerous glint in her eyes. They both laughed crudely and Al trailed a finger down her cheek.

She flinched away from Al's touch, he made her stomach roll. She imperceptibly moved her hand until she felt the hilt of the dagger. It was warm to the touch, comforting in its purpose.

Standing, she palmed the dagger and grabbed his wrist with her other hand when he would have made a move toward the bodice of her split-skirted dress. He looked surprised that she dared to defy him again. She got a better grip on the dagger, if she lost the weapon she'd be completely at their mercy. Without warning, Al fisted his hand in her hair and twisted her head back as if to cut her throat.

Annamaria screamed in rage as his lips touched hers brutally in a move that was meant to bruise. At her hiss of rage his tongue went between her lips and she nearly gagged when he bit her tongue warningly.

Without thinking she plunged the dagger into his chest when he moved back and ripped angrily at her dress. The fabric ripped across her shoulder and when the dagger reached his heart blood splattered warmly onto the material over her chest.

He fell to the floor with a horrible gurgling sound as blood entered his lungs. Eroyl stood watching in horror the blood-lust gone in a torrent of anguish.

"You bitch, you'll pay for what you did." He over powered her by at least thirty pounds and in no time had the dagger out of her grip and across the room. Her right hand was numb from his grip on her wrist and it took all she had to knee him in the stomach to send him stumbling back a few steps.

"You killed Al," he snarled and before she could do much else than punch at his face with her fists he had her by the waist. "I'll finish what he started, by god. You're just a woman, I can make you pay in other ways than just killing you."

She twisted to try and escape his hold but the more she moved the harder he held her. Breath was hard to draw in and her ribs felt like they were breaking. When he started telling her what he was going to do, how long it would take him to do it, and how she would eventually die red swam in front of her eyes and all rational thought fled her mind.

* * *

Jack searched desperately through the port, Ana's ship wasn't there. He was sure he had tied it securely to the docks and even if he hadn't she would have been able to steer it back. He was confident that she wouldn't have left without him and only two other ships were tied there.

The feeling had grown worse and that only added to the rising panic he felt for her. What if she really was in trouble, he might get there too late to save her. No, he wouldn't think that right now. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, he wouldn't give up searching unless the jaws of life pried him away.

* * *

Anamaria stood with her dress sticking to her body and the utter silence of death around her. She still didn't know how she'd managed to do it, but somehow she had gotten her hands around his neck. With a vicious pull, just as he would have dragged her to the floor, she cracked his neck.

The bodies were as far away as she could get them. Once the shock wore off shivering started and her teeth chattered. The blood died hard and the night air chilled her to the bone. Minutes felt like hours and Ana sunk down to the floor again as much as the rope would allow.

Her wrist hurt, the silence was deafening and any moment she expected one of them to wake up and attack her again. Where was Jack? Why wasn't he back yet? Her eyes widened as the small crack of light from under the door played tricks on the floorboards. It appeared that Al had moved and was about to turn his head.

Fear turned her blood to ice and she kept her eyes on him despite her terror. She would have given anything just for the dagger back again. The coarse rope bit into her arms and even if she couldn't untie the waterlogged knots at least she'd have the reassurance of the weapon.

Eroyl was dead, but the horror of what he could have done made her breath hitch in terror. She could smell dirt and sour rum, no matter how she spit she couldn't get rid of the taste from Al's mouth on hers. She had to ignore the blood that coated her arms and most of her body, it was either that or go mad.

She focused solely on taking slow even breaths and losing herself to memories, it didn't matter which ones she just had to be anywhere but here. She thought she heard her name called but it must have been imagination because she didn't hear it again.

A few minutes later she heard it again, the voice sounded like Jack! She called his name loudly hoping that he could hear her. She heard more footsteps before the door crashed open and he stood at the doorway.

He could barely see anything, but he knew there was more than one body in the room. He could smell the metallic coppery scent of blood in the air and hoped it was theirs and not Anamaria's.

"Jack is that really you," she whispered. He could hear the effort it took her to maintain the calm tone.

"Did they hurt you? You killed them, all of them?" He knelt next to her checking hr for injuries. He didn't mean to sound cruel, Jack knew she was terrified by the way she was shaking, but he needed to know lest there be an ambush waiting for them.

"I did," she confirmed, a blankness to her gaze.

"I'm so sorry, love, if I'd known..." he reached to take one of her hands only to realize they'd tied her up.

"Bloody cowards." Jack cursed under his breath while cutting through the ropes. "I'm so sorry, Ana, come here, love."

"Can't," she shook her head and hurried up to the deck, she wouldn't touch him with all the blood and filth on her. She was revolting enough to look at, she wasn't about to stain him with their death, too.

"Ana. . ." he lightly took hold of her arm and turned her to face him carefully, "it wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do, you survived."

"I need to clean up, I need--" she forced her breathing to slow, "I'd like to change, get out of these clothes."

"Ana-"

"Don't touch me!" Ana stared at him with a feral expression on her face, she didn't want their blood on his clothes, he had enough blood in his past, he didn't need this.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Jack said calmly speaking slowly, "I bought a new ship for us, I'll take you there. You can have a bath and change your clothes, all of that, on the ship."

"Fine," Ana said shortly hanging onto sanity by a shred, "let's go there, then."

Jack made sure to give her a wide berth of space as he led the way. He'd find a man to dispose of the bodies while Ana was bathing, no need to worry about that now. He forced the rage back down wishing he'd have been able to tear the men apart himself. Guilt rode him, painful and mocking, he should have been here, he shouldn't have allowed this to happen to her.

There was nothing he could do about that now. She'd want to talk about it later, he knew Ana and rage well enough to know that she'd be furious later. He couldn't bear to see her numb, she'd want a target later to unload upon, he'd provide her with one.

Authors Note: I'm falling asleep writing this, the ideas have been in my mind ever since Midnight Rescue so I can't just shut the computer down and go to sleep. I hope you liked this chapter, I won't leave Ana like this . . . the next chapter will continue from here for the most part. Talk to you then!


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Jack was worried seeing as he'd heard nothing from her room other than the slosh of water as she rid herself of the slime, filth, and blood on her body from the fight with the two, now very dead, men.

Upon Robert's return Jack had asked that he bring some of Ana's clothes to the ship. Rob had done as his Captain asked, Jack had arranged her clothes neatly inside the cabin hastily retreating before she noticed his presence.

Robert was now quietly disposing of the men's bodies, they'd be lost to the depths of the ocean come morning. Jack would wait for Rob to return, the man would be back by morning with a clean boat free of vermin.

There was nothing he could do now except wait and wonder what her reaction would be when she finally let him talk to her. The look in her eyes was one he wouldn't soon forget. It had nearly brought him to his knees when he realized that the reason she refused his offer of comfort was because she thought herself unclean.

A crash caught his attention, then he heard water being thrown over the side. He knew that if he opened the door she would most likely smack him for it, but something didn't seem right.

There was a large window in the room, it was his ship after all. It wasn't as if he'd been able to procure a silver gilt bathtub for her, but the basin was larger than usual and she had made no complaints.

"Ana," he called knocking on the door as precaution. "Are you alright?"

"I'm just fine, Jack.'' Was it his imagination or did that answer come out as more of a snarl then an actual answer. Another crash sounded from within the cabin.

That was it, he threw open the door and came face to face with an enraged Anamaria, brown eyes flashing fire in the lantern light. She paced the room restlessly as if being in such tight quarters was torturous.

"How dare they," she growled hair flying behind her as she turned in another direction, "that was _my_ ship they tried to steal!"

"Er-"Jack was, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words. This wasn't like anything he'd ever faced before. He had known she'd be enraged, but this went past rage, it was unbridled energy, fierce in its intensity, terrifying in his close proximity to it.

"They come onboard _my_ ship, tie me up, and try to kill me. Who does that, Jack?"

"Pirates." Jack tried to lighten the mood and failed miserably. He kept his eyes on her face, she was wearing nothing but a towel. The cloth covered her nearly to her knees, she'd fastened it under her arms to keep it from falling as she paced like a caged animal.

"We're pirates! I don't see you going onboard random ships in the middle of the night, nor have I ever seen you abuse a woman," she seethed. "Come to think of it, you and Robert are the only decent pirates I know of."

She took her old clothes and flung them out the window, the stool they'd been resting on shortly followed the route her clothes had taken. The towel was forgotten in the wake of her outrage.

"Jack Sparrow," she faced him. Jack felt the urge to retreat as she stalked her way towards him, "if you _ever_ become like them, I'll kill you myself. I saw your face, I know you think that your affinity for women is some sort of... hindrance. I'm a woman, Jack, it offends me to see that look on your face, of all people."

"Ana--"

"Don't _Ana_ me," she pressed him up against the wall, "you promise me, promise me now that you won't change."

"You know me better than possibly anyone left in the world, love," he relaxed against the hold she had on his throat, "I wouldn't ever become what they were."

"You'd bloody well better keep to that," she searched his eyes frantically, "but I want to hear the words all the same."

"I swear," he wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her closer to him, "on all I hold dear, on pain of death, on anything you bloody want, that I won't ever become like them."

Now that the fury was over and the storm had blown itself out, Jack was left to deal with the repercussion. He pulled her into the hug she'd refused before and was startled to realize there were tears falling down her face.

"Don't cry, love. Not over them, they're not worth it," he said pulling out a clean towel from his pocket to dry her eyes with.

"I'm not crying," she mumbled her face buried on Jack's shoulder again, "I don't cry."

Jack felt his heart lurch at her words, he whispered nonsensical things into her hair as she fought for control. He ran his hand up and down her back as she stopped shaking.

He sank to the ground with her curled against him, holding her, promising he'd never be so thoughtless again. Ana let him comfort her now that the threat of crying was past. She felt safe, clean, pure, he made her forget her terror and helplessness, he would protect her not that she needed protection. She couldn't help clinging to him like a lifeline, whatever events had transpired to allow them to meet, she was thankful it had happened.

Ana looked up, met his familiar tawny gaze, felt the strength in his body, the power that seemed to surround him. She knelt up a little so her face was level to his and she kissed him.

Jack went completely still unsure of what to do, he could feel her passion for life, the anger that still lurked under the surface and was lost. He kissed her back, felt his back press against the wall as she melted into him.

As she wrapped her arms around his neck the towel she was wearing dropped baring her chest. Jack felt the change as he moved his hand up her back. Ana felt the sudden tension in Jack's body, she pulled away from him grabbing at the towel as she realized the cause of his mangled cursing.

He was mad? Misunderstanding the cause for his swearing she felt her anger rise. What right did he have to be mad? Ana snarled moving in on him again, she kissed him again biting his lip. Jack was fighting a losing battle, he wasn't going to take her on the floor. There was a reason, he couldn't think of that reason, but, oh hell, he thought as he responded to the pleasurable pain she was inflicting.

He wrapped his hand in her hair, he felt her nails digging into his shoulders. Ana didn't know what was wrong with her. She felt restless, she wanted... she didn't know what she wanted.

Jack broke the kiss needing to put some distance between them while knowing it would kill him if he did.

Ana took a deep breath and though Jack could swear it wasn't possible she got closer to him than she had been before. He closed his eyes against the feeling and raised a hand as if to push her away. The plan backfired and he ended up resting his arm against her back.

What was he doing? She was a virgin, the thought came to him suddenly. He was about to take her on the floor like a common strumpet. After what she'd been through, never having known a man, Jack covered her with the towel. His hands were shaking with the effort.

He skillfully maneuvered them over to sit down so that she was still with him, but not in any dangerous position. Sitting, sitting was good, no harm had ever come to a man from simply sitting down.

It was then he comprehended what it was they were sitting on and he could have cursed himself. It was a bed, not just any bed, but one large enough for two people. Oh yes, wonderful job with that, Sparrow, he thought ruefully. Just the thing to take his mind off of-

"Much better than the wooden planks, eh?" Ana commented interrupting his thoughts. She felt more herself with the space Jack had put between them. She felt ashamed by her actions, she'd forced him against the wall, held her arm to his throat. She wanted to melt through the floorboards.

"Aye, yours was a grand boat, but she lacked proper sleeping quarters." He was babbling like an idiot. Jack could feel his blood boiling, his lip was bruised, he groaned in his head.

"What time d'you think Rob'll be back?" Ana said on a yawn stepping behind a changing curtain to change into one of the sleeping gowns he'd brought her.

"Tomorrow morning, probably. He had quite a few wenches around him as I left. They'll keep him busy until then." Jack inwardly groaned again thinking Rob a very lucky man at the moment. "Are you alright?"

Jack's throat went dry as she came back into view. He hadn't known, damn Rob, he probably thought it would be funny. The nightgown was modestly long, but slit up the sides. The fabric was white, he tried not to notice how translucent it seemed framed by moonlight.

"Yes. I'm sor-"

"Not another word," he put his hand to her mouth before she could apologize again. Her breath tickled his palm and he desperately wished for a bottle of rum. "There's no need for apologies, I should be sorry if anyone should be."

Right, focus on that, Jack thought, he wasn't a boy to be lead around by lust, Ana had just been through hell and he couldn't stop thinking of how soft her skin was, how far the towel had fallen...

"Well, so long as we're here," she yawned again and motioned towards the bed.

"Beg pardon?" he blinked at her. The very thing he was trying to keep his mind from... her hair spread across the pillow as...

"We can sleep onboard, can't we?" she asked unaware of the thoughts running through his head.

"Er, yes. O'course, why not?" he watched as she lay down cursing again in his head. She pulled the quilt up and looked at him curiously. There was such a strange expression on his face, he seemed as if he were strangling on air.

"Are you not tired?"

Damn him if she didn't seem hurt. Jack kicked his boots off and lay down next to her. He shifted at the tightness in his body fighting against the desire that left him breathless.

"Good night, Captain," she smiled sleepily and brushed her lips across his. Jack lay for a long time watching the ocean's reflection on the ceiling wanting to truly kiss her, not at all like the chaste kiss she'd given him.

She had her hand over his heart and her head on his shoulder, he tried not to think of how smooth the silk of her dress was. Tried not to think of how good she smelled, how thin the dress actually was, how little effort it would take to... she was sleeping.

With his arm wrapped securely around her waist he closed his eyes and willed for sleep to descend over him fast.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 29

If he had thought last night was bad, it was nothing compared to now. Anamaria was no longer a temptation laying next to him... this time she was on top of him. Not that this wasn't a good way to wake up, but he would much rather have her be awake, too.

More importantly, how had she gotten there without him knowing? This situation was quickly becoming a serious problem.

"Ana, luv," he tried to get her to a safer position. She mumbled in her sleep and moved so she was more comfortable. He really didn't want to dump her on the bed, but is sanity was shredding and he took several deep breaths to gain control.

One last try and that'd be it, there was only so much a man could take. He moved her hair to one side and trailed his fingers along the graceful line of her throat. She opened her eyes slowly and sat up unaware of what, or better yet who, she was laying on.

She yawned and stretched as Jack desperately hung onto any semblance of control he had. All of her weight was resting on his hips. He could feel her muscles moving as she stretched. It was just a little too close for comfort in his point of view. In fact, he didn't think he'd be comfortable again for a very long time.

"Ana, love, if you have any compassion in your heart, stop moving around so much." If an enemy ever wanted to reduce a man to all nerves ready to surrender, this was the way.

"God, Ana, please, you've got to stop that," she was rubbing her eyes, which rocked her hips against his.

"Hmm. . ." she muttered not fully awake yet. She went completely as she realized why she was so comfortable. "I am so sorry."

"No, wait. . ." he tried to stop her, at least until he could have braced himself for it, but she scrambled off him bringing several graphic images to mind. He just barely smuggled the groan that came to his lips.

"I don't know how that happened," she was still blushing as Jack quickly pulled the blankets around his waist. He laced his hands behind his head and closed his eyes as if still tired. She couldn't see that his hands were white-knuckled with the effort.

"Damned if I know, lass," he grinned and looked at her lazily.

"I'm just-I don't- did I hurt you," she finally managed to ask.

"No, not at all. Why would you using me as a pillow hurt?" Jack was glad he could lie so well. She hadn't _hurt_ him, it was a different kind of pain he was in now, but he doubted she'd understand even if he could explain.

He kept his eyes closed as she changed. He focused on the waves beating against the ship rather than the sound of her clothes rustling. His body relaxed slowly, he found he could breathe again.

"Yes... well...''

"Hungry?" Jack decided, on a safe topic at last. "We have to go find Rob and th'crew."

"Sounds perfect," she was dressed in pants similar to his and a button-up white shirt. Jack waited while she washed her face in the basin of water by the bed. Gritting his teeth he braced against the inevitable pain that would result in his standing up.

* * *

They left the ship and Jack watched to see if Ana showed any traces of the terror and anger she'd shown the other night. There was no sign of distress though she didn't look at her boat as they passed it. Rob was back.

He noticed two girls walking together on the other side of the road, one of them looked familiar to him. His breath caught when he realized why he recognized her.

Kayrna. She had grown so much, her eyes sparked with happiness and her cheeks were flushed with health. She was no longer gaunt with hunger, now she looked the way a girl of her age should, glowing with life and shielded from the dregs of society.

Jack didn't have the heart to go and talk to her. It seemed they both left the past behind and he'd not go and wake it for her. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before Jack turned away. She looked to her friend again and shook her head at something that had been said.

There was no sudden realization on her expression that Jack could see. He shrugged off the disappointment angrily, he hadn't expected any less. Clamping his hat on his head to shield his eyes he walked with determined stride towards the tavern.

"Jack?" Annamaria asked worriedly, "What's wrong?"

"Hmm?" he looked up at her distractedly, "Nothing, luv. Nothing at all."

She chose to remain silent understanding that he would tell her when he was ready. Growing up around Rafe and all of the men that came into the tavern she knew men were secretive, withdrawn, unless they had rum.

Jack decided that if he couldn't get rid of the millions of memories twirling in his mind now he'd force them away. He could drown them in drink like he'd done before, come morning all would be right as rain.

"Jack!" Robert smiled when they walked into the tavern, "Ana, 's good to see you up and about."

Jack hadn't told him about Ana's encounter, he figured she wouldn't want to talk about it. Rob had experience in making dead men disappear having been part of Barbossa's crew, it was nothing new to him.

"You too, Rob." Anamaria looked at the bottles scattered around the table, "And how much did you drink last night?"

"Not much," he shrugged, "Your rum's better anyway. Just played cards with a couple men, lost to them, too."

"Lady luck wasn't with you apparently," Jack grinned despite the thoughts that still wouldn't go away.

"No, she'll bless me another day, never fear." Rob had had a decent night, the men on the island were nice enough and after every hand they bought another round for the table. Pretty soon they'd left with the tavern wenches and Rob rented a room above choosing to sleep alone.

"What say you I show the lovely Anamaria around." Robert offered sensing the dark and restless feeling coming from his Captain.

"If that be her will," Jack nodded looking towards the barkeep already feeling the solid tankard in his hand. "Take care o' her, mate."

"To the stores first," He took her arm and Jack threw him a purse full of gold not wanting Rob to spend whatever he had after a night of cards. There was plenty stored on the boats and the good thing about being a pirate was they could easily get more.

"You'll be alright?" Ana asked between laughs as Rob swung her around the tavern.

"Sure, and why not? A drink here and there and before you know it we'll be setting sail to wherever your heart decides." Jack waved a hand showing that it didn't bother him in the least and watched as they both left.

The tavern would have been empty with the exception of a drunken man collapsed in the corner. The stillness was exactly what he wanted and already have chosen the table he wanted-

"Oy! D'ye know 'f a man with t'last name o' Elstran?" Jack snapped around, dread curling in his stomach.

"What would you want with him?" Jack's eyes never left the bartender.

"If that be you, a note from a lass is 'ere for ye." He slip a clean piece of parchment across the counter.

"Slender, purple eyes?" Jack clarified wanting to rip the piece of paper in two.

"Somet'ing you ought t'know first," the bartender motioned to a chair across from where he was standing.

"What? Is someone bothering her?" The barkeep noticed the beginnings of rage in the other man's eyes and checked himself to tread carefully.

"Used t'be that in this'ere parts Dalver was a name t'fear, y'know? A real son of a dog, twice's mean and rabid t'boot. He 'ad a son, only one mind ye, treated 'im like a servant. He died a couple'a years ago, none objectin' o'course. 'is son got 'old o' t'legacy 'e left b'hind and e'er since he's taken in those 'at need t'care. This 'ere gal 's one' 'em." He motioned to the paper on the counter, "'e ne'er 'spects anythin' back from 'em 'cept 'at they treat others as t'ey was taught."

"Sounds like a one-sided bargain, what's he get back from it?" Jack couldn't believe there was anyone like that left in the world.

"No' if ye knew 'bout 'is childhood 'tisnt." The bartender plopped a bottle of rum down in front of Jack. "Now 'at ye know t'story, read t'letter 'n ye'll be understand'n it, too."

The news that Brahm was dead should have left him inconsolable and immensely sad, but in truth it did neither. He felt void of all emotion except satisfaction, the son of a bitch had finally died, he only regretted it hadn't happened sooner.

He thought back over his life, only a few years ago he'd disbanded Elstran for Sparrow. Years stocked with adventure, knowledge, loss, but most importantly well-learned lessons in survival. He had survived everything and followed his own decisions.

Somewhere he knew little Jack Elstran lurked, but over the years he'd been buried deeper and further away. Just who exactly had he become? He read over the note again and wondered whether or not he should go to meet her.

"When did she give this to you?" Jack asked.

"Las' month t'th day." He went back to pouring another drink, "She leaves one e'ery month for ye, Dalver don't like 'er comin' 'ere alone, but she don' have it 'ny ot'er way."

He wanted to see her, talk to her, know if she was really happy. The uncertainty of what she'd find that had him reaching for the bottle again.

"Did anyone come in for the note, Alec?" he heard a very familiar voice ask.

"Yeah, t'gent sitting o'er there."

Jack mentally cursed the bartender, what was he doing sending a young pretty lass over to a strange man? Anyone could know she had purple eyes, he could have been the worst scalawag to-

"Excuse me, sir? Are you by any chance..." he felt a hesitant tap at his shoulder. He stood and was pleased to see she was as short compared to him as she'd always been. The top of her head came just to his chin as it always had been.

Karyna stared at the man standing before her, he didn't look anything like Jack! She felt like she knew him, but how would that be possible?

"Yes? Were you looking for someone, miss?" he saw no recognition in her eyes even at such close proximity. There was a flicker of interest maybe in who he was, but other than that nothing.

"I thought-"she tipped her head to the side knowing that staring was incredibly rude, but in another life she could have sworn this to be him.

"Can I help you with anything." It was killing him to do this, but he could think of no other way to conclude this situation.

"Actually, you can." She took a deep breath steadying herself for the worst, "Do you know a man? Jack Elstran?"

Jack paused as if thinking about it, "By the powers, I did. Jack Elstran you said, aye? I knew him." He held out a chair for her to sit and then followed suit.

"Knew?" he saw her eyes darken and hated himself for doing this to her.

"Aye, he was a good man, an even better pirate. Never killed if he didn't have too. He put up a good fight in the end."

"How? How did he die?" her eyes went downcast and he thought he saw the glistening of tears.

"There was a raid, attacks from all sides. Jack fought like the devil, but in the end there was nothing that could be done."

"Just as he would have wanted." She whispered, "he always spoke of living on the ocean, sailing his own ship. I knew he would do it one day, but I never imagined him a pirate."

"Oh they're scoundrels, to be sure, but Elstran was different. He-"

"- was very good at it, but not cruel. Jack was never cruel," she said softly, "he protected me, stood against others for me."

"Aye." Jack couldn't have completed that sentence for all the gold in the world.

"How, if you don't mind me asking, sir, did you know him?" She looked up hesitantly as if afraid he'd be angry over such a personal question.

"I was there the day it happened," Jack lowered his head as if grieved, "I was a friend watching out for him and the like. I swear to you, lass, I did everything I could that day to save him."

"I'm sure you did." She was struggling not to break down in front of him, "I can tell that you must have been close."

"Like as if he were my own flesh and blood." Jack said not missing the irony of the situation.

"Was he- did he die happy with his life?"

"Ne'er a more content man did I see." Jack needed another way to reassure her, "Are you Kyra?"

"He spoke of me?" The grief in her eyes ripped holes in his heart.

"Quite a lot, he would always check to see if there was any mention of your name in port calls." That much was true, Jack knew he'd find her again one day, it had only been recently that he realized that maybe that wasn't the wisest choice.

"Well I thank you then. . ."

"Friend of Jack's." he supplied tipping his hat roguishly, "He would have been so proud of you, Kyra."

"And you, as well, I'd imagine." She briskly gave him a hug, "You remind me of him, you know? That's how I can tell the two of you were close. Thank you for telling me about him."

"Anytime, lass." He ruffled her hair affectionately. "Take care." He watched her leave and drained the bottle.

"Kyra?" he cursed himself for being so foolish, let her go, he told himself, let her move on and be happy.

"Yes?" He'd remember her this way forever, framed in sunlight, golden hair framing a face free from hardship.

"Jack told me he was a writer, that he wrote a book once. Do you have the book still?"

"Yes," Kyra smiled sadly, "I'm sorry, I won't sell it. He wrote it for me."

"I wasn't aiming to buy it, lass, just figured I'd tell him when I meet him in the afterlife."

She nodded once before stepping out of the tavern.

Changing his mind, he headed back towards the boat, there was something he had bought for her. Breaking into a run he knew she couldn't be too far away and he could always get directions from Alec on where she was staying.

He rummaged through his things onboard, located what it was he wanted, then walked the streets near the tavern. She must have headed the other direction or he would have caught up with her already.

Heading up towards the nicest part of town he found her easily sitting on the stairs to a very fine house. Was she crying? He wouldn't be able to continue the charade if she were.

"Kyra," he said softly. She looked up and wiped at her eyes angry with herself. She should have known he was dead, felt it somehow but everything told her that Jack was still alive.

"Aye," she looked to him in askance.

"He wanted you to have this." He held out an amethyst necklace the exact color of her eyes. "He said that you were the rarest gem in the Caribbean and you shouldn't be without it."

"Thank you, thank you so much," she clasped the chain with the gem around her neck and then gave him a much longer hug.

Jack cherished it knowing that it would be the last time he would ever see her. "He wanted me to find you even if he couldn't. If you ever need something, I'll look out for letters from you. No worries, if there's anything you want I'll get it for you, savvy?"

"Savvy," she replied wistfully remembering that Jack used to say that all the time.

"Write to Sparrow, alright? You'll remember the name Sparrow."

"I'll remember," she assured him. "I'll write to you."

"Good." He couldn't leave her the way she was, he was too much of a fool for that. "Take care, Kyra."

"You too, Sparrow," she frowned after him as he walked away. He couldn't stay any longer, just hearing his name from her killed him a little more.

"Wait, Sparrow, wait, please," he felt her pull on his shirt.

"Yes, lass?"

"What's your first name?" The look on her face chilled his heart. She knew.

"You'll be able to find me if you need something, people here know me."

"It's Jack, isn't it," her expression darkened with anger, "you're Jack Elstran. You're my brother."

"Kyra--"

"How could you lie to me?"

He was forced a few steps backwards by the slap she'd delivered to his cheek.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Authors Note: So I'm back from a LONG hiatus. I started editing the stories only to realize, 29 chapters in, that I'd never finished this one. It's been a long time since I've last written fanfiction so I apologize if I'm a little rusty. This story should be concluded within the next couple of chapters. I've gotten emails from some readers asking me why Jack seems so different from the last two movies. I hadn't seen the second or third movie when this story was being written. I didn't know there would Be a second or third, of that matter, and now that I do... I can't change the entire story, you know? So I'm going to pretend that they don't exist, at least for this fanfic, so that this story has the ending it wants.

"Kyra, damn and blast, that bloody hurt!"

"Good," she snarled, "how dare you sit there telling me that Jack Elstran died, making me think that he was dead and buried. How could you be so mean? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Can we go somewhere a little more private for this conversation?"

"By all means," she turned on her heel and started walking in the opposite direction.

"Damn, hell," Jack spluttered, "what's the hurry? Slow down." She moved quickly despite the heeled shoes she was wearing, Jack struggled to keep up while trying to maintain a low profile. The tavern was one thing, but she was leading him into a nice part of town. Dressed in sailor's garb, he would attract unwanted attention.

"Stop swearing at me," Kyra snapped, "you wanted to talk, I'm taking us to a place so we can talk." Jack followed her for about half a mile before she walked up the stairs of a modestly proportioned house. He stared at her in awe, the house was nicer than any he'd ever been in.

"Do you live here?"

"Yes," she replied shortly closing the door behind them, "Dalver bought it for me with the wages I'd have earned as a maid. I told him to hold the money for me because I wouldn't have known what to do with it. When I was eighteen he bought the house for me and gave me my freedom."

"And he treated you well? He didn't try anything... stupid?"

"He was very nice to me, I had my own room there, food to eat, clothes to wear. He helped me learn to speak properly and to write, I worked for him, but he never treated me as a servant. And, Jack _Sparrow_, no, he didn't try to do anything improper to me."

"Good," some of the tension left his body, "you have money, are provided for?"

"I'm not pick-pocketing anymore if that's what you mean."

She took a deep breath at the expression on Jack's face. This was her brother? She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in over fifteen years.

"I'm sorry, I have a temper," she grinned to wipe the sadness from his face, "they tried to teach me to be a lady, nearly suceeded except for my temper."

"'s alright," Jack said slowly reeling from how alike they looked with that wicked smile, "I'm afflicted with the same problem."

Kyra motioned for him to sit, he was standing in a living room, Kyra's living room. There was a large couch against the wall furthest from him, an ornate wooden table stood in the middle of the room surrounded by several comfortable looking chairs.

There were a few paintings on the walls, carpeting on the floors, it was exactly what he'd wanted for her all those years ago.

"Well," she demanded color back in her cheeks, "now that the pleasantries are over and done with, why did you lie to me?"

"I wanted you to be happy," Jack removed his hat and sat down on one of the chairs, "I wanted you to forget the past, our bastard of a father, that you ever had to steal. I wanted you to move on away from the hell that was our childhood."

"I remember some of it," she said quietly, "I remember being hungry all the time, and cold, hiding from Brahm when he came home."

Jack winced at the sadness on her face. "I remember it, too. I didn't want that for you, Kyra, I tried... letting you leave with Dalver was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

"I'd have remembered all of that, Jack, even if you were dead."

"Yes, well, it seemed a good idea at the time."

"Jack, do you know what else I remember?"

"If you want to smack me again, you're more than welcome to. Do we have to relive this? It'd be far less painful if you'd just hit me and be done with it."

"I just mourned your death, you _will_ listen to me."

Jack leaned back in the chair wondering how men consistently underestimated women.

"I remember how we lived, how you protected me, allowed Brahm to beat you so I would be spared, let me sleep while you walked the freezing streets for our money and food. I remember you telling me stories as I fell asleep, the way you watched the ocean and the ships that came to port. I remember hating you for letting Dalver take me away," Kyra watched Jack's face studiously, she wasn't wading through their past to hurt him, she wanted to know how much of her brother was left.

"Kyra, I've told you, sweet, I wanted a better life for you."

"I wasn't finished," damn him if her eyes weren't as cold as his were, "but I hated myself for having food, clothes, shelter, while I didn't know where you were. If you were still being beaten by Brahm, starving to death, bleeding and hurt with no one to protect you."

Kyra rose from the couch and knelt in front of him. She traced the old scars on his face, avoided the new ones. The feathers in his hair were once so familiar to her. He had always been guarded, she realized, though now he shielded himself with darkness rather than humor.

"No one to make you laugh when the pain became intolerable, who was there for you, Jack, when the nights were cold and your heart even colder?"

"I took care of myself, Kyra, I left the night Dalver took you. I boarded a ship and have been sailing ever since," he wiped at the tears that fell from her luminous purple eyes, "you're safe and I got the life I'd always wanted."

"I missed you, I missed you so much," Kyra wrapped her arms around Jack's neck and cried as if her heart were breaking, "all these years, I left letters for you hoping you'd take port here and know I was okay. I knew you'd find me one day, you promised, you always keep your promises."

Yes, promises, Jack thought, binding tricky things that hindered rather than helped. He promised nothing anymore, not if it could be helped, and he never made one without a loophole. His word and honor, things to be used against people in difficult situations. Jack had long since realized promises weren't something he could keep, not with the life-style he led.

"And I kept the one that mattered the most," Jack hugged her in return knowing the peace and contentment he felt would be short-lived. He'd savor it while he could. Emotions such as those were few and far between, all the more sweet because of their rarity.

"Jack," Kyra whispered, eyes wide in horror, "who did that to you?"

"Er," Jack hastily pulled his sleeves down from where they'd slipped, "'twas nothing, minor incidents, nothing to trifle yourself with."

"I'm not a little girl anymore," she glared at him pulling his arm to her. Kyra gentled her touch as she raised his sleeve, he hadn't said anything, but Kyra knew she was hurting him. She stared at his knuckles, scarred and swollen, some of the cuts were new and some of them were old.

Jack felt himself go numb, forced all thoughts from his mind, his expression was blank. He didnt want Kyra to see any of the memories on his face.

"This happened recently, didn't it." She had seen the pirate's brand, turned his arm to the light to examine it more closely. The skin was pink with healing, though the burn was ragged and inflamed in places. Kyra reached for his other arm, Jack tried to stop her, but it was too late. She gasped in horror, a gash ran from the underside of his elbow nearly to his wrist bones.

"Who did this to you," there was fury in her voice again, "I'll find them, murder them, how dare they do this!"

"They're dealt with, the problem arose and was overcome, no worries."

"No worries?" Karyna stared at him in bewilderment, "how did you live through this? Were they both done at the same time? They both look new! What other injuries do you have? Are they this bad?"

"Slow down, love, they're nothing, I swear to you."

"Jack! Talk to me, please, stop treating me like a child."

Jack took a deep breath, "I was captured by agents of the East India Trading Company. We didn't see eye to eye, savvy? They branded me, cut me up, and I killed their captain. We're square now, by all accounts, I've got a ship and a crew, I'm free to live out the rest of me days as a pirate."

"You killed their Captain," Kyra echoed, "they'll come after you! The East India Trading Company?! They _hunt_ pirates! They're going to want their revenge, aren't they? You aren't safe, you'll never be safe!"

"Pirate," Jack smiled, "not a profession to take if safety's a concern."

"Is there anything I can do to help? I've got money saved, you can buy a letter of marque, can't you? That way you'd be protected--"

"Privateers?" Jack couldnt help the loathing in his tone, "I'd not be a bloody privateer for all the treasure in the Caribbean."

"You daft idiot," Kyra let his arm drop, "they will never stop hunting you, do you understand? You killed their Captain! They're going to issue a warrant for your arrest!"

Jack continued to smile at her, Kyra shook her head knowing Jack wouldn't be persuaded otherwise, he always had been stubborn. "Fine, have it your way then. If you're captured... Jack, I can't watch you hang, I won't. I'll buy your freedom."

"You'll do no such thing, Kayna Elstran,you will stay far, far away from any and all preceedings should it occur. You won't be able to buy my freedom, they'll hang you as an advocate of piracy. Aiding and abetting a known criminal, or pirate, that too is treasonous, you promise me that you'll stay away and let them do as they will."

"I--"

"I was never here, you forget the name Sparrow, nobody knows I have a sister, they won't come for you should I be captured."

"Jack-"

"Promise me this, Kyra, swear it or I walk out this door and turn myself in to whichever Navyman I pass next."

"Then you'd best not be captured," she met his eyes defiantly, "I won't endanger my life if you have a care for yours."

"You'll stay quiet and remain here, safe?"

"Yes-"

"The name Sparrow will never pass your lips, you'll speak of it to no one?"

"Fine-"

"Your brother died in a tragic accident when you were a child, your father died in a drunken brawl years ago. You are an upstanding member of society, unblemished, unsullied, you'll stick to that story should you ever be questioned?"

"Damn you, yes-"

"Then we have an accord," Jack held out a hand, "I'll steer clear of East India and all military forces whilist you remain here in the lap of luxury proud of the life your bucaneer brother has made for himself."

"Alright!" Kyra shook his hand, "what name do I use when writing to you?"

"You don't," Jack said wishing it could be otherwise, "the barkeep in the tavern heard me tell you that your brother was dead, he never heard the name Sparrow. It won't be suspicious now if the letters stop. When I can, I'll pull into port and visit you, aye?"

"So that's it, I've finally found you after all these years and now you're leaving again."

"Kyra... I love you, I do, but--"

"I know," Kayrna said sadly. "The ocean still calls to you, doesn't she. I can see the look in your eyes, the same look you had when we were children. Surrounded by water for years and still you miss her, you've been on land, what, a day, and already you miss her."

Jack pulled her into a hug loathe to let her go. Her words were true, Jack could feel the restlessness churning within him, could smell the salt, feel the waves under his feet.

"You stay safe, Jack, don't let them capture you again."

"They won't catch me again, Kyra, do you know why?"

"Why?" Kyra smiled despite the tears that threatened.

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

With a flourishing bow that made her laugh Jack left feeling as though he had left part of himself behind.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32  
Authors Note: So it was easier to jump back in to fanfiction than I had thought it would be. I hope you all find the chapters to be fluid and consistent to the story despite the time that has passed. I thank everyone who has stuck with this story! And, again, I apologize heartily for the long delay.

Authors Note 2: According to the maps I've found, Tortuga was very near St. Marc, which is where the trio are now, presumably. They can sail from here to Port-au-Prince and then can make their way to Port Royale, all within respectable distances from one another. I think.

Jack stayed off the main road as he left Kyra's house sticking to the shadows behind the row of houses that lined the street. He pressed his back against one of the houses as he heard the familiar staccato of the Navy. The Navy man was going door to door passing out flyers as he stopped at every door. Recruiting, Jack wondered, the Navy always seemed to be in short supply of officers. Why not steal another son to fight in an ineffective cause?

"Excuse me, ma'am, it seems a dangerous fugitive is on the loose. We advise you to stay indoors until the criminal is detained. If you see this man please alert the authorities immediately."

"Of course, officer, we thank you for the warning," the woman paused, "he looks dreadful, doesn't he? One of those heathen pirates, imagine, out and about in our town?"

"Not for long, we hope," the Navy man bowed before heading the next house.

Jack stayed in the shadows until the officer had finished his rounds on the street, they must have alerted Kyra already, she seemed to be in no danger. No one had seen him enter her house, if she stuck to the story none would be the wiser. Jack cursed himself, he should have left her alone. He needed to leave, make a quick escape before anyone recognized him.

What if they weren't talking about him, Jack wondered, it could be a misunderstanding. He continued to make his way to the Port. There were a lot of 'fugitives' out and about, it could be a coincidence. Jack shook his head knowing it was improbable.

As he passed the tavern he saw the flyer the Navy man had been passing around. His likeliness was crudely drawn, he was hardly recognizable in the offensive caricature, but he'd used the name long enough for people to hear and remember. Jack Sparrow had been his name for nigh over twenty-five years. He'd set port in many countries, his name had been heard from Singapore to London.

Jack walked stealthily aboard his ship, he could change his name, start over as someone else. No, he dismissed that thought, the Navy had taken many things from him, they wouldn't claim his victories and triumphs as well.

"Jack," Ana hissed pulling him into the ship's forecabin, "they're yelling your name all over town, where have you been? We thought you'd been captured!"

"Yes, I heard," Jack said grimly, "we need to set sail now, without delay."

"Where to, Captain?" Robert had bought the supplies needed for a long voyage.

"Jean-Rabel," their Captain said checking his compass, "we go from here to Port-au-Prince, we can lose ourselves in the crowd there and gather some news."

"We're to sail into one of the busiest ports on this side of Hispaniola," Ana asked disbelievingly, "that's madness!"

"No, that's brilliant," Robert said fighting with an unruly sail, "with all the pirates and rumrunners that walk into that port we'll walk in unnoticed."

"Not with a warrant on his head, we won't."

"So he'll change clothes," Rob shrugged, "a pirate is a pirate is a pirate. Whose to know the difference?"

"Nice bit of logic there, Rob," Jack smiled at Anamaria, "the man has a point, love."

"I feel as though we're walking into a trap."

"We might be," Jack replied, "but it's easier to escape in the midst of an island known for piracy than surrounded by an entire village isolated from the world."

"Jack?" Ana knocked on the cabin's door hesitantly.

"Yes, love?"

She opened the door to find the pirate reclined on the bed, hat over his eyes, window open as always. The room, which had been immaculate only a day before, was now cluttered with maps and barely legible notes. The maps were sprawled across a table, propped against the walls, she could see a route outlined on the map sitting above the stack that had accumulated.

"You've been rather quiet all day, did everything go well today?"

"Do I bore you with my incessant chatter?"

"No," Ana laughed, "it just doesn't seem like you to lock yourself away in here, Robert's been sailing since mid-afternoon, are you feeling well?"

"Never better, I was planning a viable course, Captain's duties. Robert's a capable lad, did he ask for a rest?"

"He's content where he is, I was hoping to speak with you alone, if you're of a mind to listen."

"Of course," Jack sat up and watched as Ana stepped behind the changing curtain. Jack fought the urge to scream, this was going to be another long night and he hadn't spent enough time, or money, at the tavern

Jack was trying very hard to hear the waves, the gull's caw, anything but the rustling of lace and soft fabrics behind the blackened curtain. He could picture it all too well...

"And what did you want me to be listenin' for, Ana?"

"I wanted to speak with you about-- about the other night."

"You were distraught, love, what with the incidents and therewithal that happened..."

"I've killed men before," Ana replied dismissively, "I worked in a tavern for nigh four years, I've seen bloodshed, patched up men aside from yourself, Captain. I was referring to the other-"

"Ah, that which you've _not_ done before."

"And who's to say that?"

"You don't." Jack raised an eyebrow

"Do you presume to know?"

"Do you not?"

"Of course I do."

"Then, love, share with me the truth for if I'm wrong a lot of pain has all been for naught."

"Are you suggesting that you were branded, nearly killed, and almost crippled for the want of my virginity?"

"No," Jack smiled having gotten his answer, "but are you of a mind to lose said precious commodity now?"

"Jack-"

"For if it's security you'd be wanting I have both ship and title. I can offer you the ocean and freedom, what man could offer you more?"

"I'm not one of your tavern wenches to be bought no matter how pretty your words."

"I wouldn't be presumptuous enough to attempt anything of the kind." Jack itched to reach for his bottle of rum, but bartering with the quick-witted Anamaria would require him to be in full command of his faculties.

"Then why suggest it, Captain? Or do you lust for more than just the uncovered portion of your maps?"

"I was simply trying to finagle my way into your good graces. For you see, I've found women to be-- to require a certain amount of tact... hmm..." Jack paused waiting for a sign of anger on Ana's face.

"You navigate through the murky waters of our moods, is that what I'm to understand?"

"No," Jack grinned, "I woo and court lovely ladies, such as yourself, for the pleasure of their company unhampered by trivialities such as mistrust and suspicion and..."

"And is that why, due to your unsuspicious and honorable nature, Giselle and Scarlett curse your name?"

"Er-" Jack moved a few inches away from her as if warding off one of their _messages_.

"I'm not going to smack you," Ana smiled wickedly, "yet, anyway."

"It was a simple misunderstanding," Jack waved a hand as he sat up from his position on the bed, "I let loose a secret one of the ladies didn't want known."

"Really," Ana knew of Giselle and Scarlett though she hadn't kept company with them. Both were popular, known for their beauty and talent with the men, they reigned supreme on Tortuga. "what, you let it slip that they didn't charge you for their time?"

"Not exactly," Jack tried to think of a way to change the topic. The fewer who knew the secret the better it would be for him.

"There's no little Jack Sparrow's walking around somewhere, are there?"

"Not to my knowledge, and if there were, I'd expect him to find me sooner or later."

"Jack, I'm rethinking that promise not to smack you."

"Oh, very well then," Jack said misinterpreting Ana's threat. "Giselle and I ran into one another long before I was Captain of anything, savvy? She was in a bad way, so to speak, and I lent the fair lady aid. She, obviously, made it back to Tortuga where I met up with her a few years after." Jack remembered the reunion fondly despite the circumstances what had followed. "I may have spoke of her, er, condition a mite bit loudly. Giselle didn't take too kindly to that."

Anamaria's eyes had widened in humor and horror, "you let the entirety of Tortuga know that she was with child?"

"_Had been_ with child, was no longer, yes. Giselle was... irate and-"

"-what makes Giselle angry makes Scarlett angry," Ana laughed, "oh, Jack, you're lucky they didn't murder you!"

Giselle must have been furious, Ana mused, the women had the reputation of being not only talented, but barren as well. Their clients appreciated knowing they wouldn't be fathering a child upon a tryst with the famous Tortuga duo.

"Yes, well, we've since reconciled. Mostly," Jack rubbed a hand along his chin as if feeling their reminder, "which brings me to you, love. What is it that you'd be wanting from me?"

"The same as you gave them, Jack. I want you to woo and court _me_."

"Beg pardon?" Jack didn't like the way this conversation was headed. He was a pirate; pillage and plunder, rifle and loot, rum and saucy wenches aplenty. What did he know of courtship?

"Isn't that what you said?" Ana asked innocently, "wooing and courting the ladies for their company? Well, Captain, you have my company given freely. Should I not have the chance of being courted by the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, as well?"

"Er, well, that is to say... you gave me your company, freely, as you said, I've taught you how to sail and commandeer a ship. Fair trade, wouldn't you agree?"

"Not in the slightest," Ana sat beside him on the bed, "for it was my boat which you taught me to sail. That was the bargain, there. And I don't find it very gentlemanly of you to let me pursue the matter."

"Pirate," Jack smiled, "negotiation is everything. And you can't say that you don't enjoy it being a pirate yourself."

"Yes, I have to agree. Our... negotiating.... passes the time quite well."

"What say you to upping the stakes?" Jack knew it was a gamble, it would have her either going for the door after slapping him, or it would work in his favor. Their favor, he revised, seeing as how it would be pleasurable for them both.

"By how much?" Ana grinned in anticipation, she was good at manipulating odds. She'd won various trinkets over the years, the boat being the largest of her victories.

"How's about we forget about the courting aspect, which can get rather boring and tedious for both parties, and go straight for the seduction?"

"So I'm to forgo my virginity for what, what gain is there for me?"

"Plenty, Ana," Jack smiled roguishly, "and I aim to start showing you straight away."

"I haven't accepted the terms."

"Haven't you?" Jack brushed her hair to the side as he kissed a trail down her neck, "accept the terms, Ana."

"It seems I'm wagering more than you are."

Jack pushed her backwards onto the bed still kissing her neck and the hollows of her collarbone, "not at all, Ana, love, you'll be winning in the end."

As he slowly unlaced her dress Ana felt desire pool in her stomach, he was so handsome. Framed in moonlight, eyes full of promise she could understand why women fell captive to his promises and cajolery. When Jack shrugged out of his shirt she knew he'd won. Despite the scars, bruises, and battle wounds that lined his flesh he was lithe and agile. She liked watching the way he moved, like a cat, like the ocean herself, fluidity and power in his every move.

"Do we have an accord," he whispered in her ear.

"Aye, Jack, we have an accord," she waited breathlessly for the kiss she knew was coming.

"Perfect," he smiled as he sealed their deal in a kiss that was as wild and untamed as she'd hoped it would be.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

It had been three day since she'd given in to Jack's seduction and each day that had passed seemed better than the last. Robert found himself left in charge of the ship towards the end of the night, he certainly didn't mind and watching Jack and Ana together made him happy. Happy that the two seemed so content and more than grateful for they'd finally stopped fighting and sniping at one another.

The sun was fading in the sky, the sea was calm, it was Jack's favorite time of night. He had liked watching the sun rise and fall from his place among the ropes all those years ago. Jack had felt at peace then thinking his fate secure, sailing for the rest of his life on a grand ship with many more days left to see the world. He found the view to be just as spectacular from behind the wheel, but a part of him would always miss the wind in his hair from miles above the deck. There was a comfort in the danger of trusting a few ropes and the thin fabric of the sails to hold his weight and not sending him falling to his death. A freedom that he'd been unable to find anywhere else.

"Captain," Robert called, "Port-au-Prince approaches."

"Excellent," Jack replied not altering their course, "looks to be rather busy, just as we'd hoped."

He deftly maneuvered the ship to an opening near the docks. They were hardly noticed in the flurry of activity. Animals were unloaded, men carrying crates walked to and from other docked ships, arguments, bartering, and prices could be heard near all of the ships. Jack pulled Ana out of the way as a man went hurtling from the dock into the awaiting ocean. A satisfied bucaneer shrugged at them saying something about having been cheated.

"Jack," Robert whispered pointing at a signpost holding ships' names and ranking officals.

"We'll be quick, mate," Jack, too, had noticed the wanted poster with his name on it. "Call me Smith while we're here to be safe."

Port-au-Prince was not what he'd remembered it to be. The Navy had taken hold of this island as well, it seemed, for there were a lot of blue and red uniforms standing about watching the proceedings suspiciously.

"Heading to the tavern," Ana inquired. She had seen the posters, but they posed no real threat. The picture was drawn badly, Jack could have stood in front of it without anyone recongnizing him.

"Aye, the tavern," Robert was looking forward to a game of cards and a fresh tankard of rum.

"You go, I'll meet up with the two of you there," Jack wanted to have the ship repaired before indulging his want of alcohol. If they were forced to make a quick escape he wanted to be sure the ship was in good condition to aid in their escape.

"Aye, aye, Captain," Robert grinned, "I'll not turn down the prospect of having Anamaria to myself for a bit."

"And a civil thought you'd best be keeping in your head," Ana allowed him to escort her down the dock, "else I'll be giving you a smack for your trouble."

As he passed the signpost another poster on the back caught his attention. Wanted: for piracy, general lawlessness, aiding and abetting the criminal Jack Sparrow, treason, and unlawful trade. He saw Robert's name under another badly drawn picture along with another sketch drawing of a woman. The poster offered no name for which Jack was grateful. How had the news gotten to the Navy so quickly?

Jack made his way through the crowds staying away from the uniformed officers while protecting his pockets from cutpurses. His business with the shipwright was concluded swiftly, Jack knew that the ample sum he'd offered would induce the man to complete the repairs quickly and efficiently.

He was able to purchase dried meat, grain, kegs of rum and other rations in record time.

"Aye, did you hear word of the ghost ship? The Pearl or whatever she's called?"

Jack paused in the hollow between the tavern and a neighboring buiding. A quick peek through the window allowed him to see Ana and Robert partaking in a game of dice, the two sailors sitting nearest to the window didn't see him.

"The Black Pearl, she's called, 'sposed to be the fastest ship in the Caribbean. Had the Navy trailing after them for nigh on nine years now. Can't be caught."

"D'you think she's really cursed?"

"Foolish talk, its the black sails is what it is," the man drank deep from his tankard, "and their bloody Captain. Barbossa, a cruel man, to be sure, kills anyone who crosses their path."

"And am I to hear right? They're off to Port Royale now on some treasure hunt or what have you?"

"Aye, I pity the fools stationed on that godforsaken island. Ain't going to be much left when Barbossa's through with them, I'd warrant."

"The Navy after them for nine years and they sail right into them," the sailor laughed, "going to be a battle to the death if those bastards can die."

Jack had heard all he'd needed to hear. Their destination would be Port Royale. He had some reckoning to do with Barbossa and a ship to win back. The Black Pearl was his, named and honorably given, she'd chosen him and Barbossa would rue the day he'd separated Jack from what was rightfully his.

"Oy, Smith," Robert raised his tankard in greeting, "Ana's damn gone and won herself another boat."

"'s only 'cause you passed on that round, Rob, she could'a been yours had you not been tarrying with that lass."

Jack saw the flash of red uniform out of the corner of his eye. Had the officer made the correlation? Jack had no intention of staying to find out.

"Time t'go, mates," Jack said jovially throwing coins on to the table.

"What's the rush, Captain," Robert asked, "you haven't had any rum yet."

"There are two other wanted posters," Jack said, "and a Navyman ran out of here as if the hounds of hell were licking at his heels."

"Two others," Ana repeated, "were they any better than yours? Will we be recognized?"

"Nothing to worry about, love," Jack replied leading them through alley-ways toward the docks. "Where is this boat you've won?"

Ana paused scanning the waterside, "there," she pointed, "its a little thing, no bigger than the last one, but I'll have a fleet if luck stays by my side."

"Well, well, if it isn't Jack Sparrow."

Jack winced, the man's voice had been loud enough to alert the entire island.

"Do I know you, mate?" Jack looked to the one who had called his name. The fool had better have a good reason for endangering them all.

"Name's Mac and I'll have what's owed whether you remember me or not."

"Go, get the ship ready to leave. I'll be there shortly," Jack watched as Anamaria ran around the corner to their ship.

"Any further orders, Captain?" Robert asked watching Ana disappear anxiously.

"If I'm not back by first nightfall... keep to the code."

"I won't leave you behind."

"You will do as your Captain commads," Jack replied firmly. "You _will_ take over as Captain of my ship and get Ana back to Tortuga if it comes down to it. Get a crew together and await my orders. I'll meet up with you there."

"So Captain now, is it?" the man sneered, "fancy title or not, you still owe me four pounds."

"Here, take it," Jack snarled, "and you'd best pray I never meet you again."

Robert had disappeared, the ship should have been repaired by now. All was ready for them to leave, all he had to do was extricate himelf from this situation and make his way, unnoticed, to the docks.

"If you hadn't run off in the beginning I'd not be dogging your trail now."

"Leave," Jack unsheathed his sword, "or I'll be having that four pounds back."

The man had raised an alarm, threatened them all with a hanging, for four pounds. Jack could have carved the man's heart out on the spot.

Unfortunately, "Jack Sparrow, you are hereby under arrest for crimes against the Crown and Emperor. Drop your weapon."

"I don't think so, mate," Jack took quick stock of the three Navy men who stood at the ready.

"Your crimes are punishable by death, however, our orders are to detain you, not kill you. I can rescind that command if you don't drop your weapon _at once,_" the officer barked. Jack smiled, he had heard worse from men ranking higher than this whelp.

Jack shoved Mac toward the three Navy men before running down the nearest alleyway. He knew that the three men would have alerted more of the Navy to their cause. What was he going to do? Jack paused for breath having found his way back to the tavern. He waited in the alley listening for the inevitable.

He saw the layout of the tavern in his mind. There would be the front door, back door, and two windows in which to make his escape. Jack heard the harmonized footfalls, how predictable he grinned, they were going for the front door.

He proceeded down the alley cautiously ready to alter his plan if need be. The Navy was tearing the tavern apart combing its walls from the kitchen to the upstairs rooms. Jack looked toward the sky, the sun was just sinking below the horizon. He didn't have very much time left.

"I'll give you eight pounds for your robe, mate," Jack pulled a clergyman into the shadows formed from two houses.

"I'm a man of the chuch!"

"So think of the repairs as could be made with the money, savvy?"

"No!"

Jack took a deep breath before using the butt of his pistol to render the man unconscious. He quickly relieved the man of his religious cloak and garb while propping him up to make it seem as if he were resting from a long day of prayer. He wrapped the cloak securely around his body concealing most of his nautical effects. The scrap of cloth they used as a hat hid his bandanna and trinkets laced in his hair. He placed his hat securely under his arm.

Jack walked slowly though he wanted to run through the streets to his ship. The clergy hardly ever ran, he remembered, they walked quietly and somberly as if always pondering the sins of life and the glory of death.

"Oy, there!"

Jack didn't stop walking, he forced himself to keep to the steady maddening pace though he heard footsteps behind him.

"You there, Father. Find yourself a safe haven, there's a dangerous criminal out and about."

"Bless you," Jack made his voice deeper while bowing low to hide his face. He was relieved to see the officer walk away having delivered his message.

The docks were in sight, he couldn't see his ship anywhere. He felt his heart drop, surely Robert wouldn't have left already. Darkness had just fallen, the ship should still be here. Unless... Jack felt a surge of fury race through him, had the Navy chased them, as well? Robert wouldn't have been able to wait, if that were the case.

'If any man falls behind, he's left behind,' the pirate code slithered through his mind mocking him and his hope.

He should have known, things had been going too well. A ship, Anamaria, finally finding some semblance of happiness. It never lasted long, all the lessons he'd learned pointed to that. He searched the docks for a ship he'd be able to man himself. There was no time to find a crew and booking passage was too much of a threat. He didn't know which ships were friendly and he had no intention of walking onboard to be handed over to the Navy.

Jack's gaze fell on a small boat, almost a dinghy, though it was wider and had a set of sails that looked to be in good condition. Was that Ana's boat? Did it matter? The boat was there for the taking, it wouldn't be capable of a long voyage, but he didn't plan on being on the ocean for long.

Why had he suggested Tortuga, Jack cursed himself, the island was where they'd started. The small boat, dignified as she was, wouldn't make it halfway to Tortuga. He didnt have the supplies to enable such a journey to begin with, all of the things he'd purchased had been sent to the other ship.

"Damn and blast," Jack hissed making his way to the boat. He'd have to stop at another port, find a new ship to board, maybe hire a few men as crew.

He thanked the fates for high tide, he'd be able to make his escape quickly with the ocean's help. Jack untied the boat from where it was anchored to the docks while partially submerged in the water. He'd not be visible from shore.

With one last look around, half expecting to see Robert and Ana waiting for him in some distant location, he sighed knowing the thought was futile. They were probably a quarter of the way to St. Marc by now.

Better off that way, Jack thought regretfully, if he could make himself known on some small port the wanted posters for them might be discontinued. They'd make it to Tortuga before him, Jack winced thinking of how angry Anamaria would be when he arrived.

There was no help for it, he'd done as he thought was best. He was Captain, charged with taking care of his crew and ship. Robert would follow his orders, though Jack didn't envy him for having to deal with Ana's wrath on the way.

As he hoisted himself up the side his foot slipped against the wood sending him careening to the bottom of the boat. His hair caught on one of the wooden planks, Jack wrenched himself free and sat up blinking water from his eyes. Putting a hand to his head to ease the pain he was surprised to feel that the feathers were gone.

He searched the ocean for them half-heartedly knowing the waves would have dragged them under. It would be difficult enough to keep the boat from capsizing, what hope did a few feathers have? Jack got to his feet to adjust the sails for maximum speed with the wind. The moonlight flashed across the bottom of his boat, he smiled seeing a very familiar friend.

A bottle of rum had been stashed under one of the seats. The voyage was looking brighter, rum would lift any man's spirits. Jack could picture his map clearly,the nearest port would be Port Royale. He uncorked the bottle of rum and drank deeply from its contents.

The Pearl would be at Port Royale within the next few days, and with the Pearl would be Barbossa and his damned, hell-bound crew. Jack toasted the moonlight, he'd have his ship back, Gibbs would join him if he were still around. They would need more men, but Jack had full confidence in Gibbs' penchant for persuasion. If any man could find them a crew in Port Royale, it would be him.

It was time for a change, Jack Sparrow was in charge of his own destiny. He had to put Ana out of his mind, for the moment, at any rate. He'd made a promise to the Black Pearl, one he had every intention of keeping. The thought didn't sit well with him, but when he pulled into Tortuga with the Black Pearl she'd no doubt forgive him. Hopefully.

His mother was dead, at peace, he needed to let her be. She had looked out for him as he'd grown up, but he was grown up enough, she could rest knowing the lessons she'd wanted him to learn wouldn't be forgotten. Brahm, too, had passed. Painfully, he hoped.

Kyra had a good life ahead of her, she was secure and safe with Dalver in her spacious house. It was time he embrace piracy fully and lose some of his youthful morals, none of them had gotten him very far. He'd never forget the women who'd helped him, Eaylin and Jeria, Anamaria, too, but he had no intention of adding any to the list. He'd avenge Bootstrap William Turner's death, regain control of his ship, dispatch those who had mutinied against him, set the odds straight.

"Take what you can," he said taking another drink of rum. They wanted a pirate, he'd give them a pirate. None would dare stand against Captain Jack Sparrow, he'd be feared and known throughout all of the ocean. It was time to embrace his destiny, Port Royale, home of the Navy, seemed a perfect place to start.

Authors Note: I don't know if I like this ending. I'm not really feeling the finality, so to speak. It sets things up as I wanted them to be, Jack on Ana's boat, headed to Port Royale where the first movie starts. There's closure for him what with Brahm dead, his mother put to rest, Kyra safe. He and Ana had his moment, it would explain why she was in Tortuga, why she was so irate, why she demanded a boat to make up for the one (two) that Jack had taken. She'd have changed, no longer the 'innocent' tavern-maid of this story, she'd be vengeful and mistrusting. Hard lessons to learn, but it was a hard time for anyone, right?

Jack, I think, has grown up from the beginning of this story. He slowly lost some of the... naivety he had at the start. He'll always have a fond place in his heart for women. He _did_ jump in to save Elizabeth from drowning and though he held a pistol to her head he wouldn't have used it. He said it himself, "I saved your life, you saved mine."

What he becomes in Pirates 2 and 3 aren't through any plotting of mine, the movies got darker and darker and so did he. He never, still, does any real harm to the women. At the end of Pirates 3 he saves Elizabeth onboard the Dutchman though she left him to die.

Thanks to everyone for reading! I'll probably revise this ending soon, once I think of a better one. :D

The End.


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